Danger in the Shadows
by VerityD
Summary: After a series of botched investigations, Special Agent Nancy Drew of the FBI has reached a troubling conclusion: one of her fellow agents has turned traitor. Unable to trust anyone within the Bureau, Nancy turns to some old friends for help... T for language and suggestive situations. F/N. First Fanfic! Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **After a series of botched investigations, Special Agent Nancy Drew of the FBI has reached a troubling conclusion: one of her fellow agents has turned traitor. Unable to trust anyone within the Bureau, Nancy turns to her old friends Frank and Joe Hardy for help. But after almost ten years apart, will the three detectives still be able to work together? Nancy and Frank are 29, Joe is 28.

**A/N:** It starts off a bit slow, I know, but I promise it will pick up! Thanks for reading :).

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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**Chapter 1**

Special Agent Nancy Drew of the FBI stared morosely into her beer. It had not been a good day.

"Hey, Drew. Anyone home?"

"Hey, Goldstein," she replied dully as Special Agent Phillip Goldstein slid on to the bench at the opposite side of her booth. Goldstein had been her senior partner for the last year, ever since she had been transferred into the FBI's organized crime division. A big man with a wicked sense of humor, he had immediately appointed himself to be her mentor in every sense of the word.

"So … I take it the date was a bust?"

Nancy looked up suspiciously. "Who said I had a date?"

Goldstein tapped the side of his nose slyly, "My superior detective skills never fail. Or specifically, while you changed your clothing before coming here, you're still wearing makeup and a push-up bra."

"I should kick your ass for that," she growled, lowering her face to her beer to cover her furious blushing.

"One of the perks of being gay," replied Goldstein cheerfully. "Also one of the perks of being twice your size. So 'fess up, Drew. Who's the jerk, and when do I get to meet him?"

Nancy rolled her eyes. "Please. The only reason you want to meet any of the guys I date is so you can stare at them while pointedly not fingering your gun."

Goldstein shrugged, making the muscles on his shoulders ripple. Standing well over six feet tall and built like a linebacker, Phil Goldstein looked more like a hired goon than a senior agent in the FBI. "It beats wasting time talking. So when do I get to politely not threaten this guy?"

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that," said Nancy with a bitter laugh. "Apparently, I'm threatening enough all on my own."

"You didn't pull your gun on him, did you?"

"No! No, nothing like that. It's just … apparently, he didn't care for the idea of a woman who knows how to handle herself in a fight. Once he stopped ogling my chest long enough to actually hear a little about what I do, he couldn't wait to get out of there. It was like I'd suddenly turned into a troll."

Goldstein patted her arm. "Come on, Drew. Losers like that don't deserve you."

"I'd feel better if I was able to meet any other kind," Nancy said bitterly.

"You're too young to be so cynical," her partner shot back, and Nancy's lips twitched despite herself. It was a running joke between them; Goldstein was the most cynical person Nancy had ever met.

"Who decided to have a party without inviting me?" asked a mellow alto from behind Nancy. Nancy turned to see a petite, motherly woman standing behind her.

"Hello, ma'am," Nancy said. Agent Lauren Johnson slid in next to Nancy.

"Hi, yourself," she replied. "Why so glum?"

"Bad date," Goldstein told Johnson. Nancy glared at him. She liked Agent Johnson, but there were some things her immediate superior just did not need to know. Goldstein winked at her cheekily.

"And you've come to a cop bar for comfort?" Johnson teased with a smile. "Congratulations, Drew, you're finally a real agent."

Nancy managed to fake a chuckle. Inwardly, she groaned. The last thing she wanted was for her love life to become the latest topic of office gossip. Goldstein gave Nancy a sharp look; her partner had an uncanny ability to read her emotions, no matter how well she tried to hide them.

"So, Johnson, any news on the Petrucellis?" Goldstein asked. Nancy flashed him a grateful smile for the distraction. All three agents were part of a team tasked with cracking a weapons smuggling ring run by the Petrucelli mafia family; so far, they had come across plenty of circumstantial evidence, but nothing that would stand up in court.

"Well," Johnson lowered her voice conspiratorially, "I've just come from a meeting with Graham." David Graham was the senior agent in charge of their task force, and Johnson's immediate superior. Nancy's ears perked up.

"Meeting with the boss on a Friday night?" Goldstein clucked disapprovingly. "And here I've been teasing Drew about _her_ love life."

Johnson leaned across the table and punched Goldstein playfully on the arm. "Adrian understands," she said. "A word of advice, Drew: Don't marry someone who doesn't understand your job comes before date night."

Nancy threw a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am!" she said, then added slyly, "Does that mean we get to hear about your meeting?"

"Ah, to be young and eager," Goldstein said, flashing his teeth in a teasing grin.

"If you're old, what does that make me?" Johnson laughed.

"Ancient," Goldstein replied, earning himself another punch. "Don't worry; you've aged well. And Drew's still a baby."

"You're not that much older than me, even if you do act twenty years younger," Nancy shot back with a grin.

"Ouch." Goldstein placed a hand over his heart dramatically. "Our baby's gotten her teeth." This time it was Nancy's turn to smack him.

"I am glad I ran into you two," Johnson said, her tone turning serious. "Your names came up tonight. Your report correlating spikes in illegal arms sales with gun shows was stellar."

"Nancy did most of the work," Goldstein said. "I was mostly just a sounding board for her ideas."

"Somehow, Phil, Graham and I didn't think you'd done all that rigorous statistical analysis," Johnson said dryly, and Goldstein and Nancy both laughed as Johnson turned to face Nancy. Goldstein hated math. "Graham and I did some research of our own, and it looks like there's going to be a major gun show in Richmond in two weeks. According to your report, that will be the perfect time for the Petrucellis to sell off their stockpiles. We're putting the word out to search for clues as to where those stockpiles might be stored prior to the show. Hopefully, we'll get a lead soon. In the meantime – Drew, you requested a transfer to our unit because you wanted to do more field work, correct?"

"Yes ma'am," Nancy replied, excitement starting to bubble though her.

"Good, because Graham and I want you to take a point position on our next raid," said Johnson with a warm smile. "You've earned it. So finish your beer and go home and get some sleep. You're going to need your beauty rest."

Nancy grinned in excitement "You take the beer, Phil," she said to her partner, pushing the drink across the table. "I don't need it any more. And thanks for the pep talk." She rose and headed out of the bar, feeling decidedly more cheerful than when she had walked in.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

One week later, Nancy was stealthily making her way towards the back entrance of small warehouse in rural Virginia. Her nerves were humming with adrenaline, and her heart was pounding so hard she could swear the microphone in her helmet was picking up the sound. It wasn't the first time she had participated in a raid, but it was the first time she had been allowed to take a point position. And tonight wasn't any raid. It was a raid based partially on her research. Success tonight would be a personal triumph as well as a huge coup for the agency. And after the spectacular failures of their last two raids, the agency could use a win.

She glanced back once, just as her group reached the door, and saw Goldstein flash her a reassuring smile. She grinned back wolfishly before turning back to the business at hand. Now came the first test – getting past the alarm system without triggering anything. She held her gun at the ready as their tech specialist, Agent Lopez, popped the cover off the alarm casing and got to work. It seemed to take forever before she heard the lock on the back door click open.

"Drew here. We're in position," she whispered into her mic.

"Acknowledged," the deep voice of Agent Graham rumbled back. The team leader was sitting in an unmarked black van parked a few blocks away, monitoring the raid's progress. "Johnson, that's your signal."

Within moments, Nancy could hear Johnson pounding on the front entrance, shouting for someone to open up. The warehouse stayed silent and dark.

"All agents in," Graham commanded.

Nancy burst through the door, gun at the ready, the rest of her team close behind her. The words _FBI, freeze!_ echoed through the small building.

"All clear here," she reported, glancing around the empty storage room, smelling faintly antiseptic tang in the air. Nancy felt a sinking sensation in her stomach as she realized she could see no signs that the room had ever been used. "Break into pairs and search," she ordered her team, even as Goldstein came up beside her. Over her headset, she heard Johnson give the same order. Nancy tried to stay professional and alert, but the situation was depressingly similar to the two failed raids she had been on previously.

Hours later, Nancy slumped against a wall, eyes closed wearily. They had been combing the house for hours, trying to find even the smallest clue. So far, their search had turned up nothing.

"It's not your fault," a soft voice said. Nancy didn't bother opening her eyes in order to identify her partner.

"My research, my responsibility," she replied, just as softly.

Goldstein leaned against the wall next to her with a hollow thump. "Good research doesn't always mean the leads pan out."

Nancy sat up straight. A _hollow_ thump? Frowning, she rapped on the wall behind her. It sounded solid. Then she knocked on the wall by her partner. The sound was distinctly different. Nancy looked at Goldstein in excitement; he shrugged cynically but began whispering into his mic, explaining the situation. Five minutes later, a group of agents was assembled by the wall, guns at the ready, while Goldstein set up a handheld hacksaw. Another five minutes and a chunk of the wall had been cut away to reveal stacks of crates. Nancy wanted to cheer as she holstered her gun.

Johnson shone a flashlight into the hidden alcove. "No sign of anyone hiding, or of a booby trap," she announced, nodding at Goldstein. He stepped forward and lifted out one of the crates like it weighed nothing, though it was big enough to contain at least ten machine guns. Another agent stepped forward with a crowbar and carefully pried off the lid.

Nancy stepped forward eagerly to peer inside and gasped in shock. The crate was empty, except for a bright yellow smiley face that someone had spray painted at the bottom. "What the hell …" she began, choking down the rest of her curses when Johnson gestured at her curtly. Goldstein shot her a sympathetic look as he lifted down the next crate and the process began again. Nancy's blood began to boil as each crate was revealed to contain nothing more than a yellow face, smiling up at them maniacally.

"They're taunting us," she said to Goldstein softly, but she couldn't hide the anger in her voice.

"I know, but we can't prove it," Goldstein replied, his mouth twisting in frustration.

"What do you mean?"

"We can't link these crates with the Petrucellis, and even if we could, there's no evidence these crates were ever used to smuggle guns."

"Forensics may turn up something."

"I doubt it," Goldstein replied bluntly. "They're too careful."

Nancy closed her eyes in defeat, but her hands curled into fists at her sides. This was starting to feel personal.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

_That was our third failed raid, _Nancy thought the next day. She was lying on her bed back at her little apartment in D.C. after a long day in the office, staring up at the ceiling blankly. _Three raids. Three complete wastes of time. _She smiled bitterly. At least they had a perfect record. Then she sighed. All those raids had been based on solid research and concrete leads. How could they all fail? And of course, the raid based partially in her own research _would_ be the one to fail the most spectacularly. Not that anyone had reproached her, of course, but somehow that just made her feel all the worse.

An image of a crude yellow smiley face floated in front of her, and she grimaced and rolled over, as if staring at her bedspread instead of her ceiling could make the image disappear. She was not going to let that image get to her. That would be doing exactly what the Petrucellis hoped.

_Wait a minute! _Nancy thought as her eyes opened wide. _If we had the wrong place, then how did the Petrucellis know where to leave a taunt like that?_ She disregarded Goldstein's point about the lack of concrete evidence connecting the warehouse to the mob family; _someone_ had left those painted faces, and her gut was telling her it was the Petrucellis. Clearly, then, the FBI's failed raids weren't the result of bad intel; somehow, the Petrucellis were feeding them information.

Well, this time their attempt had backfired. Those spray-painted faces may have been infuriating, but they also gave the game away. Maybe that was why the crates had been hidden? Someone may have wanted to keep the FBI guessing, while someone else wanted to thumb their noses at the agents. Nancy filed the thought away for further reference. Any hint of division within the mafia's ranks was a possible weakness to be exploited.

The big question, though, was how the Petrucellis were managing to feed the FBI false intel so consistently. After all, the timing of their last raid had been partially dictated by Nancy's own research, and she knew no one had given her the idea to research correlations with gun shows. Nor could she see how planting information would serve the mafia's purposes. It was hardly an effective use of resources. If they were going to lure the FBI someplace, why not have a trap waiting at the end?

Nancy ran her hands over her face tiredly. _Maybe they were supposed to be traps, but failed? _she thought, then sighed. It made no sense. Three completely useless traps? Besides, there were no signs of any traps having been set, and those crates could easily have been booby-trapped. In fact, there were no signs of anything at all; forensics hadn't even managed to turn up a dust bunny. Nancy frowned suddenly. No signs of anything at all? Almost like all three sites had been wiped clean of evidence on purpose …

Nancy jumped off her bed and grabbed her work laptop from the secure cabinet that doubled as her nightstand, then flopped down on the futon crammed in her living room and got to work. It took her half an hour to review the research her team had done on the warehouses they had raided. Her face was grim by the time she finished. The research for all three sites was solid.

If those sites had been wiped clean in preparation for the FBI's raids, that could mean only one thing – the Petrucellis knew they were coming.

But how? Were the leads the FBI was following that obvious? Nancy glanced down at her computer and reflexively shook her head. There was little that was obvious about the leads they had followed. Maybe the Petrucellis had penetrated the FBI's security? It was always possible, but somehow Nancy thought it unlikely. Their offices were periodically swept for listening devices, and as to hacking into their email – the Petrucellis weren't involved with high tech crime, and the FBI's email system was among the most secure in the world. So what avenues did that leave?

Nancy went cold as she realized there was only one other possibility. Someone on the FBI's team was on the Petrucellis' payroll. Someone – one of her fellow agents, one of her friends – was a traitor.

Nancy rubbed a thumb absently over the edges of her fingernails as she forced herself to think about her options. Exposing a double agent was a tricky business, and she had no proof of anything. But who could she go to? Who could she risk telling? _Everyone_ was a potential suspect. God, even Goldstein. Who could she trust if she couldn't trust her own partner? Her thumb slowed, then stilled. There was _someone_ she could trust, or rather two someones, if she had the guts to call them – two people who had once been among her closest friends, who were completely unconnected with the Bureau, and who had the skills to help her investigate her own teammates. But would they help her conduct an investigation whose legality was questionable at best? Nancy set her jaw and grabbed her phone. There was only one way to find out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**_Thank you to everyone who read, followed, or favorited this story, and an especially big THANKS to those who took the time to review: pen4lew, The Vulture, max2013, FreshKicks, Caranath, Jabba1, and Xdaisy chainX! You guys are all awesome for giving me a warmer reception than I could have ever envisioned._

_I should have put this in the author's note in the last chapter (and now have), but Frank and Nancy are 29 and Joe is 28. _

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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**Chapter 2**

The ringing of the phone jolted Joe Hardy upright at his desk. _Who the hell is calling at nine on a Thursday night?_ he thought. He was only staying late to catch up on his paperwork, though he was playing more solitaire than anything else. The caller ID identified the number as unlisted, and for a moment he was tempted to let it go to voicemail, but then he shrugged. It wasn't like his night could get any duller.

"Hardy Investigators, Hardy speaking," he said. There was silence on the other end of the line, and the hair on the back of his neck started to prickle. "Who is this?" he demanded sharply.

"Joe?" a woman's voice asked questioningly. A very familiar woman's voice …

"Nancy?" he blurted, shocked. "Nancy, is that you?"

He heard soft laughter come from the other end of the line. "Do you want to play twenty questions until I've proved it to your satisfaction? I thought you were supposed to be a big shot detective now."

"Only the biggest," he laughed back, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet up on a corner of his desk. "God, Nan, it's great to hear from you. It's been forever. How are you? Did you ever start working as a fed?"

"Yep," said Nancy, and he could imagine her blue eyes sparkling. "Special Agent Nancy Drew, at your service."

"Good for you," he said sincerely. "So how's life been treating you? It's been way too long since we talked. What have been you been doing with yourself?"

"Working on top secret cases and busting the bad guys. Which mostly means paperwork. You?"

"Yeah, the same kind of stuff, totally," he grinned. "Except the bad guys in my job are most likely to be cheating spouses. I don't suppose you're calling for assistance? I'm bored out of my mind, Nancy. It's been at least a year since someone even waved a gun in my direction."

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" she teased. "No, I'm not calling in any official capacity. I was thinking of heading up to New York for the weekend. What would you say to meeting up in the city this weekend? Or I could drive out to Bayport, if that would be better. It would be really good to see you again, and it's not far."

Joe's eyebrows rose. He hadn't failed to notice that while Nancy had said she wasn't calling in her capacity as a federal agent, she also hadn't said she wasn't calling for help. That might not mean anything, but then again, he had learned a long time ago that trouble had an uncanny way of following Nancy Drew. Besides, it had been nearly two years since they'd talked – _something_ had caused her to call now. His gut was telling him that life was finally going to get interesting.

"Why don't you come out to Bayport?" he offered. "We can put you up; I need to check with Frank first, but it shouldn't be a problem."

"Really? I would have thought Callie'd have a fit."

"Umm - Callie and Frank got divorced. Frank's been living with me ever since."

"They _what?_ Since when?"

"Like five years ago. I could have sworn you knew, Nan, or I would have called and told you, I swear."

There was an uncomfortable pause while Joe fidgeted with a pencil. Finally, he heard Nancy let out a breath. "It's ok, Joe. It wasn't your job to tell me. I don't know why I'm surprised. Frank made it clear where he stood a long time ago."

"It was a real mess, Nancy. Frank was a wreck –" Joe started, but Nancy cut him off.

"Seriously, don't worry about it. I'm sorry to hear your brother went through all that, that's all. You don't need to try to defend him."

"Uh-huh," said Joe under his breath. He knew a pissed off woman when he heard one. The rest of the conversation was fairly brief. Nancy insisted on staying in a hotel, but they agreed to meet up as soon as she got into town. Neither of them mentioned Frank again. Afterwards, Joe hung up the phone slowly. It was going to be a hell of an interesting weekend.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

Frank barely looked up from his computer when he head the apartment door bang open. The sudden blaring of ESPN confirmed that his younger brother had finally arrived home from work. Frank flicked a glance at the clock on his monitor. _Nearly ten_, he thought idly. _No wonder he's in a bad mood._ Based on long experience with Joe's moods, Frank figured Joe would be crashed in front of the TV for at least the next hour. He was therefore surprised to hear a knock on his door not fifteen minutes later. Joe didn't wait for an answer before sticking his head in.

"Want a beer?" the younger Hardy brother said by way of greeting.

Frank snorted. "Hi, Joe. My day was fine. How was yours?"

"We've got lager and stout."

Frank glanced at the lines of numbers on his screen. They made no more sense than they had two hours previously. "Stout. I'll be out in a minute. And turn the TV down, will you?" He didn't bother to see if Joe nodded, but a minute later the volume of noise in the apartment decreased dramatically.

"Alright, what's up?" Frank asked once he was settled with his beer. Joe toyed with the label on his own bottle, not meeting his brother's eyes, before answering.

"I got an interesting phone call today."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Remember Nancy Drew?"

Frank choked on his beer. Whatever he expected Joe to say, that wasn't it. Nancy Drew… it took a minute for the flood of memories to subside. "Of course," he said indignantly. A sudden wave of anxiety hit him. "She's ok, isn't she? She's not hurt or anything?"

"No, she's fine," Joe answered. "A little shocked to find out you and Callie got divorced five years ago."

"Four years ago," Frank corrected automatically. He rubbed at his chest unconsciously. "We separated five years ago."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I still would have thought you'd have contacted her to let her know."

"What was I supposed to say?" Frank's tone turned mocking. " 'Hey Nancy, I know we haven't talked in years, but I thought you might care that my marriage is over?' "

"I don't know, how about, 'Hey Nancy, I know it's been ages, but my crazy girlfriend is now my crazy ex-wife, and do you think you could forgive me for choosing her over one of my best friends in the first place?' " Joe shot back. "Don't tell me you never think about Nancy."

"Of course I've thought about her. You think I don't realize I never should have let Callie get away with that ridiculous ultimatum? But give me credit for _some_ intelligence, Joe. Nancy wasn't going to forget I'd thrown away her friendship to appease a jealous girlfriend. You should have heard her when I told her we couldn't be friends anymore. Besides, what does this have to do with anything? It's ancient history."

"It's about to become current events. Nancy's coming to Bayport this weekend."

"She's _what_?!" Frank sat bolt upright. Just the thought of seeing Nancy again made it hard to breathe. "This weekend, as in tomorrow? You don't think a little warning would have been nice?"

Joe held up his hands defensively. "First of all, it's not like I had a lot of notice either. Nancy called the office tonight and asked she could come up this weekend. Of course, she insisted on staying in a hotel after she found out about you and Callie. Second of all, the whole thing's strange. It's not like I've kept in close contact with Nancy over the last few years. It's been almost two years since we've even talked, and suddenly she just wants to come up to say hi? Something's up."

Frank rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You think she's in trouble?"

Joe shrugged. "That, or she needs help on a case, or … it could be anything, really. With Nancy, all bets are off. We're grabbing dinner tomorrow night after she gets in; I'm assuming she'll fill us in then. So are you in, or what?"

"I really doubt she wants to see me …" Frank hedged. Joe just cocked an eyebrow at him. Frank sighed. His brother knew him far too well. "Ok, I'll come. I'm not leaving Nancy in the lurch. But you do know it's going to be really awkward, right?"

Joe shrugged. "A little awkwardness won't kill anyone. I mean, I don't think Nancy's bringing her gun to dinner."

"When did Nancy ever need a gun to hurt anyone?" Frank muttered into his beer. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

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_And the plot thickens ... Please review and let me know what you think!_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_WOW! Thank you so much to my AWESOME reviewers: max2013, Jabba1, Lady Emily, Xdaisy chainX, The Vulture, catlover1033, StorkHardy, Caranath, bhar, Confidential Brunette, FreshKicks, and Guests 1, 2, and 3! _

_I didn't expect to get the next chapter up until the weekend, but all your reviews really inspired me! This chapter is mostly background on what really happened with Frank and Callie, and I'm really curious to find out what you all think._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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**Chapter 3**

The next day, Frank found himself waiting in the lobby of a slightly dingy hotel on the edges of Bayport. Joe stood next to him, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like a little kid about to get a lollipop. Frank held himself perfectly still, trying not to let his tension show. This was definitely not how he had envisioned seeing Nancy Drew again.

For the thousandth time since he had learned she was coming to Bayport, he let his mind drift back to the last time he had seen her.

_Nancy, Frank, and Joe were hanging out at the airport in Miami, waiting for their flights back to their respective hometowns. They had met unexpectedly earlier that week; Nancy was in town following a suspected kidnapper, while Frank and Joe were there to watch the Orange Bowl. It hadn't taken long for Nancy to wrap up her case, and they had taken a few days to celebrate before it was time to head home. Joe had talked them into sneaking into a club, even though they were all underage. He'd claimed to need consolation after watching his team lose their game. Frank pretended to give in reluctantly, but secretly he was just as excited as his brother. He was the one who had made their fake IDs, after all. It was only natural that he wanted to see if they worked. His excitement had nothing to do with the thought of spending the night dancing with Nancy. Nothing at all._

_It had been exhilarating, acting like they were just normal college kids. The IDs had worked perfectly, and even Joe – who was only nineteen – had been able to buy drinks. Nancy had guys drooling all over her, and after a few beers of his own, Frank had decided that the best way to protect her was to act like she was_ his_ girlfriend. That would keep strange guys from pawing at her all night. After that, he barely left her side. A part of his brain kept telling him that they were dancing too close, that his hands were roaming a little too freely over her body, that they both had people waiting for them back home, but for once he ignored it. Nancy felt way too good pressed against him, and besides, he tried to rationalize, making out on the dance floor didn't count as cheating, right?_

_Now, as they stood together in the airport, he still couldn't bring himself to feel guilty. He knew he would, later, when he saw Callie again. But right now, all he could think about was the gorgeous girl standing next to him. _

_"Flight 879 to Chicago O'Hare now boarding Gate 18," the loudspeaker suddenly blared. _

_Nancy looked up with a smile. "Well, guys, that's me," she said. Was it Frank's imagination, or was there regret in her blue eyes as she looked his way? Joe grabbed her in a bear hug, which she returned enthusiastically before turning to Frank. Frank couldn't help himself; he gathered her close and buried his face in her hair. It smelled fresh and clean. Callie's hair always smelled like flowers. Their embrace lasted slightly too long, and when Nancy finally pulled away, their faces were so close he could feel her breath on his lips._

_"Take care of yourself, Hardy," she told him softly._

_"Yeah, you too, Nancy," he said. His throat felt raspy as he said it. She smiled at him then, and he nearly kissed her right there in the middle of the airport, in front of his brother, everybody. Then, to his surprise, she kissed him lightly on his cheek._

_"I'll see you guys soon," she said brightly, pulling away from him before he had even begun to recover from his shock. The feathery brush of her lips had been so soft, almost tender …_

_"You bet, Nan," Joe replied, grabbing her for another hug. "Have a good flight, and call us if you get any really interesting cases. You know, the kind where you need two big, strong guys to come in and save your ass – oof!" He rubbed his shoulder where she had slugged him and grinned._

_"See you soon, Nance," Frank had managed. She flashed him one more grin, and then she was walking away, long, confident strides that were taking her farther and farther from him._

_"Don't say anything," Frank told Joe, not taking his eyes off Nancy._

_"Who, me?" Joe replied innocently. "Not a word."_

Joe had kept his word, but in the end it hadn't really mattered. The more Frank had told himself he had nothing to feel guilty about, the worse he had started to feel. No matter how he tried to rationalize it, he knew that – dance floor or no dance floor – he had cheated on Callie with Nancy _again_, and this time, there was no case to blame. By the time they had gotten home, he had felt like the worst sort of scum.

He never did have the courage to confess to Callie exactly what had happened. Nevertheless, Callie – who already knew he had kissed Nancy in Egypt – had hit the roof when she found out that he and Joe had gone clubbing with Nancy Drew. They had fought for hours, and it had ended with Callie sobbing like he had never seen her cry before. That was when Callie had given him an ultimatum: he could keep dating her, or he could be friends with Nancy. He hadn't made the decision easily. Nancy was one of his closest friends, and cutting her out of his life was like cutting off one of his limbs. But at the time, he had believed that Callie was the love of his life, and so he did the only thing he thought he could do. He chose Callie.

_Nine years later, and where am I?_ Frank thought bitterly. _I ended up losing both of them, and completely screwing myself up in the process. _

He was on the verge of telling Joe that he'd be waiting in the car when the soft ding of an elevator made him glance at the end of the lobby. A slender young woman stepped out into the lobby, her dark jeans hugging her hips and a sea green top bringing out the red in her reddish-gold hair. Frank's mouth went dry. Nine years ago, Nancy had been hot; now she was drop dead gorgeous.

"Nancy!" Joe yelled, sweeping her off her feet and spinning her in circles. She was laughing a little breathlessly when he finally set her down, then kissed him fondly on one cheek.

"Joe, you haven't changed at all," she said. Joe hugged her again.

"Nope," he said proudly, then made a show of checking her out. Frank fought against the sudden urge to deck his brother. "You look great, Nancy."

"Thanks, so do you." She turned to Frank then, and Frank felt a frisson of tension travel down his spine as their eyes met for the first time in almost a decade. "Hey, Frank," she said.

"Hey, Nan," he replied.

"I was sorry to hear about you and Callie."

"Oh, um – yeah, thanks," Frank replied, running a hand through his hair awkwardly.

And that was all. Nancy turned back to Joe and began chatting with him about dinner plans. Frank watched them, feeling a little flat. He had been prepared for an emotional confrontation of some kind; it had never occurred to him that Nancy would treat him with such indifferent politeness. He felt his heart twist painfully as he realized that the past nine years had turned his former best friend into a stranger – and he had only himself to blame.

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_Review and let me know what you think!_


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_A HUGE thank you to my awesome reviewers: Angelvie S, hlahabibty, __Guest, ella, StorkHardy, bhar, Jabba1, Guest2, Guest3, Caranath, Lady Emily, max2013, endersgirl104, and kvance, as well as to everyone that's reading, following, and favoriting this story! I get really insecure about my writing, and words can't express how much all of your encouragement means to me._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**_

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**Chapter 4**

"Alright, Drew, spill," said Joe as soon as they had piled into his car. "Why are you really here?"

Nancy laughed. "Not fooling you, huh?"

"Not for a second," Joe replied smugly.

"Alright, big shot, I could use a hand. Strictly unofficial, though – if any of my superiors found out I was here, I would be in serious trouble." Nancy heard a rustle from the backseat as Frank leaned forward to hear better.

"How serious?" asked Joe. "And please tell me this favor involves some action. It has been way too long since anyone tried to shoot me."

Nancy glanced into the visor mirror just in time to catch Frank roll his eyes. Back when they had been friends, they would have ganged up on Joe for making comments like that. Now it just made the already-strained atmosphere in the car even tenser, and the silence dragged on a few seconds too long before Nancy collected herself and replied.

"Nothing like that, sorry," she said. "Tell you what. Let's grab some pizza or something, and then you can take me somewhere secure and I'll give you the details."

Twenty minutes later, the three of them were seated around the Hardys' dining room table. It was on the top floor of a three story garden-style apartment building, though the bottom floor appeared to consist entirely of one car garages. Joe had proudly driven Nancy into the garage attached to the Hardys' apartment. The apartment itself was bigger than she'd expected; her own tiny efficiency in D.C. could have fit in there at least three times over. The Hardys' furniture was mismatched – probably inherited from their parents – and the walls were bare except for an impressive entertainment center stuffed with video games.

"What's the verdict, Agent Drew?" Joe asked with a grin. He had a slice of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other, and he waved them both expansively to encompass the entire apartment. It was a little odd to see Joe drinking legally, but Nancy supposed she would get used to it. They were all older now. In fact, she could use a beer herself.

"Nice," Nancy replied to Joe's question, then quirked an eyebrow at him. "Cleaner than I expected."

Joe chuckled. "That's all due to Frank. If it were up to me, we'd be moving piles of dirty laundry trying to find the chairs."

Nancy laughed and glanced at Frank, who flushed and looked away quickly. She tried to ignore the way her stomach flip-flopped in every time she looked at him. It would be easier if he wasn't so impossibly handsome. Still lean, he was more muscular than she remembered, and she couldn't help but wonder how else he had changed as her eyes roamed over …

_Stop it, Drew_, she told herself firmly. _Just because it's been awhile doesn't mean you have to go acting like some randy teenager. Besides, Frank Hardy has made it abundantly clear that you mean nothing to him._ The anger she'd felt since talking to Joe last night began to simmer over once more. She could understand why he'd chosen his wife over her. It had hurt – a lot – but she could understand. But once Callie was out of his life, she thought he would have at least called.

Nancy realized she was glaring at Frank and made herself relax. It was all years in the past, anyhow, and she needed to get over it if they were going to work together again. She set her half-eaten slice of pizza down. Instantly, she had both brothers' complete attention.

"My team's been on the trail of a major crime syndicate, a mafia family called the Petrucellis. They're mixed up in a whole bunch of different rackets, but our focus is on their weapons smuggling operations. So far, however, we haven't been able to pin anything solid on them, despite staging three major raids in the last six months. All three raids were based on solid intelligence; all three times, we've come up empty. The sites had been wiped clean."

"What do you mean, 'wiped clean?' " asked Frank. It was the first time he had spoken since he and Joe had picked Nancy up from her hotel.

"That's just it," she said. She looked at him assessingly. He had always been the sharpest of the three of them. It was reassuring to know that that, at least, had not changed. "These places have been completely empty. Not a stick of furniture, no fingerprints, nothing. And that's only part of what's so strange. Those leads were really good, but …"

"… they must have known you were coming, or they would never have had time to clean up all the evidence," Frank finished for her. For a moment, it was just like old times, when she and Frank would be thinking about a case and finish each others' sentences without even realizing it. Then Frank shifted awkwardly and the moment was broken. Nancy tried not to sigh.

"They could have leaked the information about the warehouses," she continued, "but then to abandon everything and do all the work involved in wiping everything clean – why go through all the hassle and expense?"

"Maybe they were trying to set up traps and had to abandon them for some reason?"

"While they have the resources to take down a few of us, all three raids were heavily manned. One time we even used a SWAT team."

"They found out you were coming with more men than they could handle," said Frank, his brown eyes widening. " Which means –"

"Someone on my team is a double agent," Nancy finished grimly.

"That's where we come in," Joe guessed.

Nancy nodded slowly. "If you guys are willing, and I don't blame you if you're not. Checking up on FBI agents – you're going to have to do stuff that isn't strictly legal. I _think_ I'd be able to protect you from jail time, but if you're caught, you'll lose your PI licenses for sure." Nancy caught the strange look on Joe's face as he glanced at Frank. She cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

"I'm not actually a private investigator," Frank said. "I work for NYPD on data fraud and security issues."

Nancy blinked. A small "Oh" was all she could manage. It had never occurred to her that Frank might have decided to work for someone other than his father.

"Do you have any suspects, Nan?" Joe asked. Nancy turned to him, grateful for the distraction.

"No," she admitted. "I've been on this team for almost a year. I'm too biased. I keep hoping it's someone higher up – the stings were big enough a lot of really high level executives got involved. That's also part of why I didn't want to initiate any sort of internal investigation."

"Plus you have no proof," said Joe.

Nancy laughed. "What's this, the great Joe Hardy actually worrying about little things like proof? Have you gone and grown up on me after all?"

Frank's mouth quirked into a crooked grin, and Nancy felt her heart do another flip flop. "You should hear his rants about having to legally acquire evidence," the older Hardy commented wryly. Joe just rolled his eyes and stuffed half a slice of pizza in his mouth.

"I know that look, Drew," he mumbled around a mouthful of cheese. "Stop having second thoughts."

Nancy made a face at him. "Stop being reckless. You're right, I'm having second thoughts. I don't know what I was thinking, trying to rope you guys into this. I just need to be patient. It's not worth you risking your careers …"

Frank's voice cut in, calm and serious. "Our careers aren't in much danger, as long as we're careful. _You're _the one who's taking the risk, coming to us. And all three of us know how long an internal investigation for a leak can take, and how rarely they actually turn up anything. This – what did you call them, the Petrucelli family – needs to be busted, and the sooner, the better."

Nancy closed her eyes, thinking. When she opened them, her blue eyes shone with determination. "Ok," she said, "where do we start?"

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_Don't be shy! Review and tell me what you think!_


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** _As always, thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review: endersgirl104, max2013, Lady Emily, dolphingirl7, Angelvie S, bhar, Guest, Caranath, StorkHardy, hlahabity, Harrypotter, supernaturalsam, and EditorChick. Your comments and critiques never fail to make my day!_

_This chapter's a bit of fluff before we start getting down to the action - hope you enjoy!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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**Chapter 5**

"Ugh," Joe groaned the next day, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "Nancy, I love you, but this is not how I planned on spending my Saturday morning."

Nancy looked up from her own work and grinned. "Sorry you're missing your cartoons, but if you promise to quit whining, I'll make you some pancakes – assuming you guys have anything edible in this place, that is?"

"Hey, just because we're bachelors doesn't mean we don't know how to cook," said Joe in mock indignation. "It just means _I _don't know how to cook. Frank's actually pretty decent."

"One day, Joseph, you are going to realize you can't live off of ramen and hot pockets forever," Nancy warned as she got up from the table they were sharing and headed for the kitchen.

"Thanks for the warning, mom," Joe shot back playfully.

"You're lucky you guys don't have that many eggs, or I'd have plastered one on your face by now."

"Okay, okay, I'll be good – if I get pancakes?"

Nancy laughed as she began stacking ingredients on the counter. "Yeah, you'll get pancakes."

Feeling slightly more cheerful, Joe turned back to his work. He was cataloguing all the payphones within a three block radius of the FBI headquarters in D.C. He, Frank, and Nancy had decided that their mole was probably using a prepaid cell phone or a payphone to contact the mafia, and Nancy's intuition was that a payphone was more probable, since a prepaid cell would still have to be hidden somewhere and could be discovered. Once Joe had a list of the most likely pay phones, Frank would hack into the telephone company and see if any suspicious calls had been placed. Meanwhile, Frank was seeing what information he could dig up on Nancy's colleagues through legal channels available to him as an NYPD officer, and Nancy was trying to write profiles for every single one of her teammates, emphasizing anything that might possibly be suspicious. She had been working diligently for hours, and though she hadn't complained, Joe suspected the work was taking a toll. Normally, Nancy would have thrown something at him if his whining irritated her, not offered to bribe him with pancakes.

As the smell of sizzling batter began to fill the apartment, Frank stuck his head into the hallway and shot Joe a quizzical look. Joe made some vague gestures intended to pantomime the flipping of pancakes, and then tried to indicate that Frank needed to do something with his hair, which was sticking out in all different directions. Frank mouthed a quick thanks and ducked back into his room. Joe rolled his eyes. It went against every brotherly instinct to warn Frank he looked ridiculous, but he knew his brother was trying to look his best around Nancy – even if Frank was too stubborn to admit it.

Idly, Joe watched Nancy moving around their kitchen, her movements sure and deft as she ladled batter onto the pan. _If only Frank had married her instead of Callie, _Joe thought. _They're perfect for each other. _Did she like Frank as much as he liked her? Joe knew that she had been half in love with his brother when they were teenagers, but that was a long time ago. Still, Joe wondered if Nancy would be quite so pissed about Frank for not getting back in touch with her if she didn't still have feelings for him. And pissed she clearly was, despite her efforts to hide it. It was there in the way her back stiffened every time Frank spoke, the way her eyes flashed fire whenever she glanced at him when she thought no one was looking.

Later, after the pancakes had been eaten and Frank had disappeared back into his room, Joe decided to see if he could irritate Nancy enough to get her to let something slip. "So, Nan," he said casually, "how's Chris?"

Nancy's head whipped up, and Joe resisted the urge to duck. That icy glare was lethal. "What?" she snapped.

Joe twirled his pen nervously. "Um … wasn't that the name of the guy you were dating the last time we talked?"

"Joe, this is why you should talk to your friends more than once every two years."

Joe held up his hands defensively. "I know, and I'm sorry. But hey – you could have called me too!"

Nancy seemed to deflate a little. "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry – both for not calling and for being hypocritical about it. I'm just a little edgy right now."

"No problem," Joe replied. "So – I take it Chris has become a bit of a sore spot?"

Nancy snorted. "Yeah, you could say that. We've been over about a year and a half; it wasn't a pretty break-up."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm much better off without him."

"So who are you dating this days?"

Nancy shot him a suspicious look. "You're not trying to work you way up to ask me out, are you?"

"What?" Joe exclaimed with a shudder. "Absolutely not! No offence, because you're hot as hell, but that would be like dating my sister or something."

Nancy grinned at him. "That's one of the more offensive compliments I've ever received, and that's saying something. But don't worry – I think of you as my obnoxious little brother who never stops hitting on my friends."

Joe laughed and held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I never caught any of them complaining. Besides, I don't need to hit on any of your friends right now. I've got a very hot date tonight."

"Oh?" Nancy asked. Joe just grinned at her.

"I'll make a deal with you, Drew," he teased. "You tell me about your love life, and I'll tell you about mine – all the gory details, I promise."

"Ugh, I don't know if I want to know," Nancy said with an exaggerated shudder. "All right, I'll take the bait. My love life isn't too interesting. I'm dating, but I haven't seen anyone seriously since I broke up with Chris."

"Aww, come on, that's all I get?"

"My whiny, obnoxious little brother," Nancy muttered, much to Joe's amusement. "There's not much else to tell. My last date was pretty typical. We went out to dinner at a nice restaurant, flirted up a storm, and then the guy found out I worked for the FBI and got freaked out. Apparently the fact that I know how to shoot a gun was not high on this guy's list of turn-ons."

"Wuss," said Joe succinctly. "Doesn't this guy watch action movies? Women who can kick ass are hot."

Nancy burst out laughing. "Thanks, Joe. I needed that."

"So, other than this loser, any guys you have your eye on?"

"What kind of question is that?" Nancy demanded, but Joe noticed that she didn't quite meet his eyes.

"It seems perfectly straightforward to me," Joe replied, then he deliberately looked behind Nancy and raised an eyebrow, as though he were greeting Frank. Nancy flushed and whirled around a little too quickly, and Joe had to hide a smirk. He had to admire Nancy's composure, though, as she turned back around and looked at him questioningly. "Sorry, thought I saw Frank stick his head out into the hallway," Joe said by way of explanation.

"Mmhmm," said Nancy skeptically, and the slight narrowing of her eyes told Joe that she was planning on extracting revenge for his little stunt. "So what about your love life?"

"Still the stud of Bayport," he replied smugly.

"Oh? I would have thought you would have gone through all the girls in the area at least once by now."

"Umm … I may have been dating mostly women in neighboring towns," he admitted. "It's kind of awkward to run into an old flame when you're just out grabbing some pizza."

"Old flame?" asked Nancy slyly. "Is that the newest euphemism for 'one night stand' ?"

Joe felt the heat rising to his own cheeks. "I'm not _that_ big a player," he said defensively. "I usually date a girl for a month or two."

"Usually, huh?"

"Yeah. What, don't tell me you've never had a one night stand of your own?"

"Uh-uh. You already got to ask your questions," Nancy shot back. "So you're telling me you're both a gentleman and a player, huh?"

"Hey, I'm not looking for anything serious, and neither are the girls I date," Joe said defensively. "It's not like I'm leading anyone on."

"Yeah, I can just see you and Frank, dating up a storm and leaving a trail of heartbroken girls in your wakes," Nancy teased.

"Frank?" Joe laughed. "I think you've got your Hardys mixed up there, Drew. I don't think Frank's been on a date since – how did we start talking about Frank's love life, anyways?"

"I have no idea," Nancy replied innocently.

Joe mentally reviewed their conversation. _Smooth_, he thought. _Really smooth._ "Any more questions about the more important brother, reporter?" he asked, deciding not to let on that he'd caught her little trick.

"Absolutely," Nancy smirked. "So how long do you wait before sleeping with these girls?"

Joe choked. "I'm not answering that!" he gasped.

"Well, it would help me decide for myself if you're really acting like a gentleman, or if you're just after a good time."

"Nancy!" Joe said, genuinely shocked.

"It's a perfectly reasonable question, Joe," Nancy replied, her eyes sparkling with suppressed laughter. "And what kind of protection do you use? I assume you always use protection, right? There are no little Hardys running around that I'm not aware of?"

"God, no! I mean, I always – no there are not!" Joe spluttered.

"Do you get tested on a regular basis?"

"Nancy…"

"I'm just looking out for you," said Nancy, her blue eyes wide and guileless. "I mean, what are friends for?"

"Fine," Joe growled. "I let the girl set the pace, I always use protection, and I get tested regularly. Happy?"

To his surprise, Nancy got up and came over to him. "Idiot," she said, dropping a kiss on his forehead then mussing his hair.

"Gentleman idiot?" he asked in his best hopeful little boy voice. Nancy laughed.

"Yes, I deem you an official gentleman idiot," she said. Joe pantomimed slumping in his chair in relief, setting them off laughing, but he was surprised to find that a part of him was truly relieved. It would have hurt to find out that Nancy didn't respect him.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** _Sunshine and rainbows to my fabulous reviewers: Caranath, Angelvie S., Lady Emily, Jabba1, Guest, kvance, hlahabibty, and flowerlover. You guys rock!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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**Chapter 6**

Frank Hardy had a lot of experience getting past doors. He had picked locks, removed deadbolts, kicked them off their hinges, and on one memorable occasion, used plastic explosive to blow himself an entirely new door. But right now, the door of his own bedroom was confounding him.

_It's not even locked_, Frank thought angrily. _All that's waiting for you on the other side is a pretty girl whom you know is almost certainly not armed._ Frank raked his hand through his brown hair in frustration and glared at the innocuous looking doorknob. _You can't hide in here forever,_ the voice in his mind continued. _You can't hide from her_ _forever. Not anymore._

With a low growl, Frank flung himself on his bed. Normally, he was the calm brother, the one who could always keep cool under pressure, but right now he was a mess and he knew it. He thought that implosion of his marriage had taught him to be cynical about love. Now Nancy was sitting in his dining room, and she was all he could think about. But she deserved someone with an undamaged heart, someone who could offer her more than Frank ever could.

Of course, it was obvious that Nancy couldn't care less about Frank's inner struggle. It was clear that she had moved on years ago; Frank was a former friend, and maybe even an old crush, but mostly he was just someone who owed her a few favors. Oh, and he was also the brother of her good friend Joe.

Frank rolled over onto his back, staring blankly at his ceiling. Joe had stopped in before leaving for his date, ostensibly to check on Frank's progress, but really to tell Frank that Nancy wasn't seeing anyone right now. Both brothers knew Joe was suggesting that Frank make a move. Frank snorted. He had been with Callie for over a decade, and when they had gotten together as freshmen in high school, she had been the one to ask _him_ out. Since his divorce, he had barely dated, becoming even more phobic about commitment than Joe.

It wasn't until almost eight that hunger finally drove Frank from his sanctuary. He tried not to hesitate as he walked into the main living area, but Nancy barely looked up from her laptop to acknowledge him.

"I was going to make some dinner," he offered. "Have you eaten yet?"

Nancy shook her head, still not looking at him. The light of her screen gave her blue eyes an eerie glow. "What are you making?"

"Umm." Frank did a quick inventory of the kitchen. "Spaghetti, I think."

"Sure."

Fighting not to feel let down by her apparent lack of interest – after all, it wasn't like he had expected anything else – Frank set about making dinner. While he was waiting for the water to boil, he decided to sauté some beef, onions, and garlic to add to the marinara sauce, just to occupy his hands. The fact that he happened to know Nancy had a weakness for garlic had nothing to do with his decision. _Yeah, right_, Frank grumbled mentally. _You're pathetic, Hardy._

It didn't take long for dinner to finish cooking, and Frank set his plate on the side of the table opposite Nancy, which also happened to be the only space not covered by papers or electronics. When he gave Nancy her plate, he was rewarded by the first genuine smile she had given him since coming to Bayport. "Thanks," she said. "It smells delicious."

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Frank tried to ignore the butterflies suddenly dancing in his stomach. "Water, soda, wine, beer?"

"Wine would be great."

To Frank's surprise, Nancy set aside her work when he brought over her glass. "Listen, Frank, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your help." Frank flushed and tried to wave off her praise, but she pressed on. "No, seriously. I would have totally understood if you didn't want to stick your neck out."

"When has sticking my neck out ever bothered me?" Frank quipped, and for an instant it was almost like things were normal between them. Then Nancy's grin slipped a little, and the awkwardness was back. "First of all, Nan, being a specialist in high tech crime for the NYPD has its advantages. I can get most of the information we need legally. Second of all, it's the least I can do, after everything…"

Nancy gave him a level look. "It's a little late for apologies, Frank," she said bluntly. "Let's just keep this professional, okay?"

"Okay." Uncomfortable, Frank ran a hand through his hair. He had thought Nancy would lose her temper, but somehow this coldness was worse. How did just hearing his name on her lips have such power over him? And the way she said it … and suddenly he understood. Nancy hadn't gotten over his throwing away her friendship after all. The worst part was that he had no idea how to fix it. _How did you tell your former best friend that you'd ruined one of the best things in your life for the stupidest of reasons? How could you ever repay that kind of debt?_ Frank drew on a lifetime of training to keep his misery from showing on his face. _You can't. Face it, Hardy – this is one mistake you will never be able to fix._

"So, um, how long have you been in the FBI?" Inwardly, he cursed his awkward attempt to make conversation, but was better than silence.

"About three years, although I've only been with the Organized Crime Division for the last year," Nancy said. The distant tone was back in her voice, but now he wondered how he could have possibly missed the pain it masked. "I worked for a few years as an investigative journalist, but honestly, I found it dull. Most of the stories I dug up were pretty mundane, you know? I wanted to feel like I was doing something important, and something exciting."

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," Frank agreed.

"Is that why you joined the NYPD? I have to admit, I was surprised. I always thought you and Joe would both join your dad's agency."

"Yeah, I don't know. I guess I just wanted to take the more traditional route, at least for a little while," Frank hedged. He knew Nancy could tell that he wasn't telling the whole truth, but he hoped she wouldn't press him. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up Callie's insistence that he get a job nearby with something resembling regular hours. Joining the NYPD instead of Bayport's local force had been a compromise, one he later realized that Callie had never fully accepted. Frank shook himself mentally, bringing his attention back to the present.

"So based on what I've been able to dig up on your teammates so far, they're pretty model citizens, if you ignore the astounding number of speeding tickets they've managed to collect. I've just been going through basic information, though – I wouldn't have expected anything to turn up at this point. I'll know more when I start going through their financial records. Have you had any better luck?"

Nancy shook her head. "I've been wracking my brains for anything that seems suspicious, and I've written pages and pages of personality profiling." She fiddled with her hair absently. "I think I'm just too close to it. I don't want to imagine any of them as double agents."

"Want to shoot profiles past me?" Frank offered. "Maybe something will strike me that you missed."

"Sure." Nancy flipped her laptop back open. "Well, first there's David Graham. He's the head of our team. _Very_ senior."

"That works for and against him. If he's senior, that means he's trusted by a lot of people – but on the other hand, he would have the most information to leak. Anything strike you as suspicious about him?"

Nancy twisted a lock of hair around her finger as she thought. "He's a tough boss, but then, you don't get to lead a major team unless you're tough. Divorced, no kids. I don't know too much else about his personal life; he's pretty tight-lipped."

"Any leaks that only he would have known about?"

"No; nothing that obvious."

"Ok, who's next in the chain of command?"

"Lauren Johnson. She's a senior agent who is just itching to be in charge of her own team. She's been waiting a while, so that could have made her bitter; on the other hand, it could have made her even more determined not to screw the opportunity up. She's been happily married for years."

"Anything particularly interesting about her?"

Nancy hesitated, but grimaced and shook her head. "Not really."

Frank frowned at her response. "What is it?"

Nancy sighed. "It's not important, but … Agent Johnson thinks of herself as my mentor. She's an experienced agent, and I respect her, but being under her wing isn't something I asked for."

"You don't like her?"

"No, I do like her, quite a bit in fact. It's just … she's very motherly, and sometimes those mothering instincts are a bit overwhelming."

Frank nodded, being careful not to smile. "So who is third?"

"Phillip Goldstein. My partner." Nancy hesitated for a moment, then added, "For what it's worth, my instinct is that Phil is the one person we can to rule out."

"But you didn't go to him with your suspicions," Frank pointed out.

"No. And if there's been a leak on my team for God know how long without my noticing, then trusting my instincts is the last thing we should be doing. But Goldstein's been the best partner I've ever had. He's saved my ass more times than I can count, covered for my mistakes, taught me the ropes – he's just been incredible. You're a cop, you know how it is with a good partner; they're like your other half."

Frank made various noncommittal noises as he listened to Nancy rhapsodize about her partner. _Did Joe hear this before he told me Nancy was single?_ he wondered. _It sure doesn't sound like she wants to stay that way._ Mentally, Frank began cataloging all the reasons why this Goldstein could be in the pay of the mafia before he realized that he was jealous. _Stop it, Hardy_, he told himself sternly. _You blew your shot nine years ago._ _Nancy__ has a right to be happy._ Steeling himself, Frank tried to listen analytically, but it felt like a fist squeezed his heart every time he watched Nancy's face light up as she mentioned another man's name.

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_Review?_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_What would an author do without her reviewers? max2013, Xdaisy chainX, Caranath, Angelvie S., hlahabibty, Shani8, FreshKicks, Guest, Lady Emily, and Harrypotter - you guys rock, roll, and are just all around awesome. I appreciate each and every one of you for taking the time to review!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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**Chapter 7**

At precisely eleven o'clock in the morning, Nancy Drew strode down the corridors of the FBI's office in Washington. Outwardly, she appeared confident and collected – or at least she hoped she did. The truth was that she could barely hear the click of her shoes over the pounding of her heart, and she was sure the papers she gripped in her hand were getting damp from her sweaty palms. It had taken three weeks, but Frank and Joe had come through. She had enough evidence to present her theories to Agent Graham. Taking a deep breath, she raised her hand and knocked firmly on his office door. _No turning back now,_ she thought, steeling herself. She let herself in as soon as she heard Graham's deep voice granting permission.

"Have a seat, Agent Drew," her superior said as soon as she entered the little office. Nancy relaxed a little at the sound of his soothingly deep voice. It was an office joke that Graham could have doubled for Morgan Freeman. Nancy seated herself in a government-issued office chair and made herself as comfortable as possible. "You said you had something important you needed to discuss with me?"

Nancy nodded. "Yes, sir." She took another deep breath. "I am concerned that someone on the team may be leaking information to the Petrucellis."

Graham settled back into his chair, his face settling into grave lines. "That's a very serious charge, Drew. Do you have any reason to think this?"

"Yes, sir, I do." Nancy took a moment to gather her thoughts, trying to ignore the openly skeptical look on her superior's face. "A number of suspicious phone calls have been placed at pay phones in the vicinity of this office in the weeks prior to each of the three raids we have conducted, all to the same unlisted number. In addition, Agent Johnson and Agent Subsinghe have both received large deposits at seemingly random intervals over the same period of time. Taken in conjunction with the fact that we have searched three warehouses and found them to be unnaturally sterile, as well as the taunting graffiti left at the site of the last raid, I believe there are grounds for an official investigation into a possible security breach."

There. She had said it. Nancy looked at Graham, waiting for a response, but his face was unreadable. The silence seemed to fill every corner of the small office. Nancy could feel her heart start to beat faster as she waited for his verdict.

"Drew," Graham said finally, his voice stern. Nancy tried not to wince. "I'm not sure where to begin. You began an investigation on your own, when you should have come to me. You come in here making accusations against your fellow agents based on evidence that is circumstantial and highly speculative. Speaking of which, I assume those papers you're clutching contain the evidence you mentioned?"

Silently, Nancy handed over the briefing she had prepared with all the information she and the Hardys had collected. Graham looked it over for a few moments, his face growing sterner by the minute. "How did you get this, Drew?" he asked at last.

"It's a bit of a long story, sir," she began, but Graham cut her off with a gesture.

"Was all this information obtained through strictly legal channels?" he demanded.

Nancy steeled herself and looked Graham straight in the eye. "I am not certain, sir. Most of this information came to me via a source who wishes to remain anonymous."

"Convenient," Graham said dryly. "And also suspicious. You realize that we have no way of authenticating this anonymous source of yours, which automatically casts a shadow over any data they've provided. Furthermore, you do realize that the failure of our raids could be due to any number of factors, including simple bad luck."

Nancy shook her head. "That's not possible. Not three times."

"These guys are professionals, Drew. I know you're young and eager, but you'll learn – three failed raids really isn't so many, in the scheme of things."

"Yes, sir, I understand. But shouldn't we investigate every possibility? If it is a leak …"

Graham cut her off. "No, Drew, we shouldn't. Nothing destroys a team faster than a leak investigation. The Bureau trains us to be suspicious by nature; if we start suspecting each other, everything falls apart. I am _not_ going to start investigating the team itself, not unless that's the only possibility, or there's clear evidence that's where the problem lies."

Nancy bit her lip and looked away. Was Graham right? Should they wait to rule out other possibilities?

Graham saw her uncertainty and his face softened, but he drew himself up in his chair nevertheless. "Special Agent Nancy Drew, I am placing you on probation," he said formally. "Pending a hearing in front of the review board, you are relieved of your duties. You are likewise ordered to refrain from discussing your status with any member of the FBI."

Anger and frustration warred with a sick feeling in Nancy's stomach. "Yes, sir," she managed. Graham looked at her sympathetically.

"You're a good agent, Drew, but you're young, cocky, and eager," he said. "That's the kind of attitude that will get you in deep trouble, but once you get more experience under your belt it's the kind of attitude that could take you far. I'll do what I can to ensure you get a second chance, but there are no guarantees. Now, it's Friday afternoon. Why don't you go home and try to enjoy your weekend?"

Nancy tried to keep her expression professional, but inside she knew that a relaxing weekend was the last thing she was going to get.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

Nancy made it all the way back to her apartment before realizing her cheeks were wet. Angrily, she wiped at her face. She hated crying. It was hard, though. She had known that initiating an investigation on her own would jeopardize her career, but she had thought the risk was worth it. She had been so sure she was right.

The ringing of her phone jolted her out of her stupor. Nancy glanced at the caller ID. _Joseph Hardy_. For a moment, she seriously debated ignoring the call, but she knew she'd have to talk to him sooner or later. She picked up the phone.

"Hey, Joe."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, then Joe's familiar voice washed over her. "Hey, Nan. I didn't think I'd get you."

Nancy snorted. "I wish I was at work, believe me."

"Uh oh," said Joe. "That doesn't sound good."

"It's not. Graham didn't go for it. I'm on probation until my review hearing."

"Oh, Nancy. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Nancy said, more harshly than she meant to. She was in no mood to be pitied. "I knew this was a distinct possibility, remember?"

"Yeah, but … how are you doing?"

"Never better," she replied sarcastically, then sighed. "Sorry. My temper's a bit short."

"That's okay – I'm tough, I can handle it," Joe boasted. Despite herself, a small laugh escaped Nancy's lips. She could just picture Joe's trademark cocky grin. She heard Joe chuckle a little in response. "That's more like it. Anyhow, I was calling to try and convince you to come up to Bayport this weekend, and now I'm even more determined."

"Joe, I really don't think …" Nancy began, but Joe cut her off.

"Come on, we can go over the case and see if we can find any more information that might help your defense. You know you'll feel better trying to work on something than you will just sitting around and doing nothing."

Nancy bit her lip. "That's true," she admitted.

"So what's the problem? Pack a bag and get up here. I'm sorry we don't have a guest room, but our couch is surprisingly comfortable. We'll make it up with sheets and everything, just like grownups."

"Stay with you guys?" Nancy asked, startled. "Joe, I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Why, because of Frank? I know things are awkward between you guys right now, but you're the one who said it was a long time ago and there was no reason not to move past it. Besides, when have you ever been scared off so easily? I'm pretty sure you could take Frank if you needed to. I'd even help."

Nancy sighed. "You're going to pester me until I agree, aren't you?"

"Pretty much."

"Fine, you win. But only because I want to go over our intel and if I'm about to be unemployed, I shouldn't waste money on hotels."

"I don't know if I should gloat or be suspicious about how easily you gave in."

"Whatever makes you happier. See you soon."

Flipping her phone shut, Nancy grabbed a duffel bag and began packing methodically. Jeans, t-shirts, shorts … she hesitated for a moment then added one nice dress and a few of what she had dubbed her "clubbing shirts," because there was no telling what Joe Hardy would come up with. She was climbing into her blue Mustang within ten minutes, tossing her suit jacket carelessly on top of her duffel in the back. She hadn't bothered changing out of her work clothes. Somehow, staying in what she thought of as her "uniform" – dark suit, white blouse, and regulation gun – helped her believe that her career as an agent wasn't actually coming to an end. Rolling her windows down, Nancy focused on the long drive ahead of her. She never noticed the van that followed her as she peeled out of the parking lot.

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_Ominous drum roll please! You guys know what to do._


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _If I could, I would give every one of my fantastic reviewers a panda cub: Caranath, bhar, kvance, Shani8, Angelvie S, Guest, Harrypotter, Lady Emily, Xdaisy chainX, max2013, Jabba1, and hlahabibty. A big thank you also to everyone who has followed or favorited this story!_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.**

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**Chapter 8**

"Would you relax?" Joe demanded in exasperation. "You look like you're going to your own funeral." He glared at his brother, who refused to meet his eyes. "We're supposed to be cheering Nancy up, not making her feel like she's visiting Frankenstein's castle. And right now, Frankenstein's monster would be an improvement – at least he looks like he's capable of smiling."

"Pep-talks are not your forte, baby brother," Frank muttered, raking his hands through his thick brown hair.

Joe rolled his eyes. He hated when Frank called him "baby brother" – as if eleven months made such a difference! – but when Frank decided to sulk, there was no talking to him. Joe just hoped he snapped out of it when Nancy arrived. Judging by their earlier phone conversation, Nancy's nerves were already frayed, and Joe was certain that dealing with a sullen Frank would not help her.

"Joe, is that your phone?"

"What?" Then Joe heard the muffled ringing coming from his bedroom. "Crap." He ran for it, then reentered a minute later with a triumphant grin on his face. "Made it. That was Nancy, by the way. She says she'll be here in about half an hour."

"Great."

Joe ignored his brother's distinct lack of enthusiasm. "I thought we could order some Chinese, since we got pizza last time. If we order now, it should be here before Nancy." Frank made a noncommittal grunt that Joe decided to take as agreement. He was digging up a menu for the local take-out place when Frank suddenly spoke up.

"Steamed dumplings." At Joe's puzzled look, Frank elaborated. "Get an order of steamed dumplings. And General Tsao's chicken. That's what Nancy always gets."

Joe stared at his brother for a moment. _After nine years, he still remembers her favorite dishes? _"Sure," was all he said.

When Nancy finally showed up, the food had arrived and the table was set. Joe was rather proud of that last touch – usually he and Frank ate in front of the TV. Nancy sniffed appreciatively. "What are we having?" she asked.

"Kung pao shrimp, orange chicken, beef broccoli, General Tsao's chicken and steamed dumplings," Joe replied.

"I can't believe you remembered my favorites." Nancy sounded delighted. Joe grinned and nodded at his brother.

"I wish I could take credit, but Frank was the one who thought of it."

"Thanks," Nancy told Frank softly.

Frank ran a hand though his hair uncomfortably. "It was nothing. It's amazing what sticks in your memory, that's all."

"Oh," said Nancy, her smile becoming slightly brittle. "Of course." Joe felt like slapping his forehead. What the hell was wrong with Frank? He'd had a golden opportunity to flirt with Nancy, and instead he'd ended up sounding dismissive. Before Joe could try to salvage the situation, though, Nancy was already turning towards him.

"I don't need to ask who decided to order enough food for an army," she told him teasingly. Joe grinned. At least _one_ Hardy brother was capable of being charming.

"I'm a growing boy; I need my food."

"You're twenty eight, Joe," Frank snorted. "At this point, the only growing you'll be doing is sideways."

Joe flexed his bicep. "Body of a god," he boasted.

"Or at least the ego of one," said Nancy. "So are you going to use those muscles to grab the food? Because I'm starving."

It wasn't long before the three of them were settled around the table, eating in companionable silence. Joe studied Nancy covertly as he ate. Despite her earlier teasing, it was clear to him that she was feeling the strain of her situation. The skin around her eyes was tight with worry, and she kept flexing shoulders that were stiff with tension. Joe debated offering her a massage after dinner, but decided the potential for awkwardness was too high. Not to mention that Frank might try to kill him.

Thinking of his older brother caused Joe to glance over at Frank. Unsurprisingly, Frank was studying Nancy intently, but the look on his face was unreadable. Joe sighed to himself. He needed to find a way to get those two to actually speak with each other.

After dinner, they settled in the living room, and Nancy filled the brothers in on the details of what had happened earlier that day. There was silence for a long moment as the Hardys absorbed Nancy's story.

"Graham raised some good points," Frank said at last, reluctantly. "But I don't see why he doesn't want to initiate an investigation anyways. Surely it could be done without the team's knowledge?"

Nancy shrugged. "He's the one with experience, and rumors do go around the office."

"It seems to me that your biggest problem is that you didn't get all your evidence legally," said Joe. His words were punctuated by a distant roll of thunder, and he grinned sheepishly. "I've always wanted that to happen after I said something ominous." He expected Nancy to throw a pillow at him, but she just stared morosely into her glass of wine.

"The good news is that I should be able to protect your identities as anonymous informants," she said.

"Won't that get you into more trouble?" asked Frank. Nancy shook her head.

"I'm in enough hot water that one more drop won't make a difference, and it's my fault you guys are involved in this whole mess. I don't want to take you down with me."

"Do you really think they'll fire you?"

Nancy sighed. "Probably not. They've invested too much time and money in my training. I'll probably be transferred to some dead-end job, though. I doubt they'll trust me enough to let me back in the field after this."

"So resign," said Joe. "Come and work for our dad."

"Oh, yeah," Nancy scoffed. "I'm sure your father would really want to hire a disgraced FBI agent. Every disgruntled client you have will be able to use me as a scapegoat, Joe. It'd be terrible for your business."

"What are you talking about?" Frank asked. "You're an amazing detective, and anyone who has ever worked with you knows it. Besides, your hunches are usually dead on. Graham's an idiot if he's willing to discount that."

Joe tried not to roll his eyes. Was this his brother's idea of flirting? It was certainly the most Joe had heard Frank say to Nancy since she had reentered their lives. Nancy just looked at Frank like he was crazy.

"So you're saying that a veteran FBI agent is an idiot for not trusting the hunch of an agent who is still pretty green?"

Joe jumped in before Frank could get himself into deeper trouble. "Hey, Nan, did you come straight from work?"

Nancy looked at Joe in a way that made it clear she saw straight through his lame attempt at a distraction. "Pretty much. Why?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit before. Plus, you're still wearing your gun."

"Oh." Nancy blushed faintly. "I forgot about the gun. I'm so used to wearing it. As to the suit, well, I didn't feel like taking the time to change into something more stylish."

"You mean you didn't care about impressing me?" Joe feigned disbelief. "You can resist my sheer animal magnetism?"

"Shockingly, yes," Nancy replied dryly.

"I think you look great in the suit, Nan," said Frank suddenly. Nancy looked at him, surprise written all over her face. "Seriously. You could be the girl on an FBI recruitment poster."

Joe tried not to choke. Frank _was_ flirting. From the look on Nancy's face, his attempt was not terribly successful.

"Thank you, Frank," she said, and Joe winced. The sarcasm in her voice was sharp enough to slice metal. "It's good to know that, even with everything else that's going on, I'm still fit to be useful to the FBI in some capacity. Sure, it doesn't actually involve solving crime or doing anything else that needs a brain, but at least I look like a hot bimbo with a gun." Thunder pealed again, and rain began to pelt the windows.

"I didn't mean – I mean, you don't just look good, you also look competent, efficient, intelligent." Frank was clearly floundering, and Joe didn't blame him. He had seen angry copperheads that looked less dangerous than Nancy.

"Well, gosh, it sure is nice to know I at least _look_ the part."

"It's better than looking incompetent." Joe tried to mollify her, only to cringe when Nancy turned her glare on him.

"Joe," Frank jumped in warningly. Joe recognized Frank's tone instantly. It was what Joe called Frank's "big brother" voice. It meant "stop it now, or I will make you regret it." Nancy clearly recognized Frank's tone as well – she had certainly heard it enough time when they were teens – because she rounded on him furiously.

"What the hell, Hardy?" she demanded. "Not only am I some dimwitted model, but now you need to protect me from your brother's idiotic attempt at a joke?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Frank protested.

"The hell you didn't. It's been almost ten years, Frank. Almost an entire _decade_ of our lives since you've seen me, spoken to me, even acknowledged my existence for all I know. I could take care of myself when we were younger. Do you think that I've turned into some kind of coward since then? That FBI training turns out weaklings as well as the odd failure? Or was this some sort of chauvinistic thing? You need to defend the poor, weak woman from the big man who might bruise her sweet little feelings?"

Frank and Joe gaped at Nancy in shock. An ominous silence hung over the room, punctuated only by the sound of the pouring rain. Joe was the first to recover his voice.

"You know, Frank, I can't imagine anyone less in need of a protector," he joked weakly. "In fact, if she'd been there five years ago, maybe you wouldn't have gotten shot." He heard Nancy gasp and looked at her in time to see all the color drain out of her face.

"You got shot?" she whispered, looking at Frank.

"Yeah." Frank shifted uncomfortably, and Joe watched as his brother rubbed absently at the upper right hand side of his chest, where the bullet had hit him. "It wasn't that big a deal, though. I was only in the ICU for a couple of days."

Nancy closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, Joe and Frank both flinched back. "You were only in the ICU for a couple of days, but it wasn't a big deal," she mocked, then gestured to his hand. "Is that where you were shot? In the chest? Forgive me if my biology is a bit rusty, but isn't that a rather critical area?"

"Nancy …"

"I know you agreed to cut me out of your life, but Callie wasn't heartless. You could have died, Frank! And I wouldn't have even known until it was too late – if I found out at all, given that your brother at least could have mentioned it without breaking a promise, and didn't." Her eyes, bright with angry, unshed tears, burned into each of them in turn. "But I guess none of that mattered to you. To either of you." Nancy set her glass of wine, still full, down carefully on the coffee table. "Why not? You owe me that much of an answer, at least."

Joe opened his mouth, then closed it again. What answer could he possibly give? _Things were chaotic and I forgot?_ She was right. Across the room, Frank had gone pale. Nancy looked back and forth between the two of them expectantly. When it became clear neither one was going to say anything, she stood, her hands clenched into fists.

"You know what? I'm out of here," she announced coldly. "Thank you both for all your help. Goodbye." With that, she turned and stalked to the door. It slammed behind her with a finality that made Joe's blood run cold.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

By the time Nancy made it to her car, she was soaked to the skin. Rain blew across the parking lot in sheets, and the strong wind made her car shudder. Flashes of lighting split the sky into jagged pieces, and thunder boomed so loudly it almost drowned out her sobs. _He didn't care about you_, she thought. _He didn't then, and he doesn't now._ She wiped at her eyes with one sodden sleeve angrily. She thought she'd gotten over Frank Hardy years ago. She'd actually convinced herself it was just some teenaged crush. Apparently she'd been deluding herself on both counts.

_Well, Drew, now you know,_ she thought savagely. _He's available, he's been available for years, and he didn't even care enough about your so-called friendship to let you know he'd almost died. _

Nancy went to grab some tissues out of her purse, only to realize she'd left her purse and duffel at the Hardys' apartment. She muttered a curse. She could manage without them for the night – her car keys and wallet had been in one of her pockets – but she'd have to get her stuff back before she went home to D.C.

Maybe she could get Joe to ship her stuff back to her, she thought as she started her car and began driving toward a hotel. She thought she could handle about that much contact if she had to. And then she was done with them. Both of them.

It was a difficult drive; visibility was low and the country roads were slick and dark. It therefore took a while before Nancy noticed the dark van behind her. She squinted into the rearview mirror, trying to make out any details, but it was too dark to be sure of much. All she could tell was that the front license plate was missing and, despite the rain, the driver had his lights off.

Nancy's eyes narrowed. If she had been on a case, she would have thought she had picked up a tail, but as it was she knew of no reason for anyone to be following her. Still, she sped up and then slowed down out of habit, just to see what the van would do. It stayed with her. Telling herself she was being paranoid, she pulled into a drive-thru. The car drove past and Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. Five minutes and one milkshake later, she pulled back onto the road. When she glanced back, the van had reappeared.

Nancy cursed and sped up again, this time driving as fast as she dared. The last thing she wanted was to have her tail follow her all the way to her hotel, and she didn't know the area roads well enough to try to lose it on back roads. The van's driver must have guessed he'd been spotted, because as soon as Nancy sped up he switched on his lights, using his high beams to try and blind her. Nancy gritted her teeth and drove on, skidding around turns on the slick roads and praying the miserable weather had kept everyone else inside. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid a collision with an oncoming car.

The van kept pace with Nancy's every move, and her heart began to pound with as much fear as adrenaline. This guy was _good_. Frantically, Nancy racked her brain for tricks she could pull, but she couldn't come up with anything. Then a flash of lightning suddenly lit up the road in front of her, and she saw that she was approaching a bridge. There was a narrow gap in the guardrail just before the bridge, and what looked like a small grassy plateau. If she could just fit her car though the gap, she could abandon the vehicle and try to make a break for the woods. It was risky, even crazy – without her purse, she didn't even have her cell phone – but she couldn't think of anything else. With a silent prayer, Nancy prepared to make her move.

Everything seemed to happen at once. As Nancy slowed to maneuver her car through the narrow gap, her pursuer slipped over to the left side of the road and rammed her. Her car smashed though the gap, spurting over the wet plateau and down a sharp embankment toward a river before Nancy could react. Frantically, she slammed her foot on the brakes and pulled on the parking break, hoping to slow her descent. Another flash of lightning lit up the water in front of her, and Nancy's breath caught. She wasn't going to be able to stop in time.

With a loud crash, Nancy's car sped into the river and disappeared from sight.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** _I am so sorry for the delay! I did NOT mean to leave you guys on a cliffhanger for this long. My only excuse is that real life has been keeping me really busy, and sadly, that's not about to change in the near future. But all my fantastic reviewers keep me motivated to keep writing - Lady Emily, max2013, Angelvie S., kvance, bhar, hlahabibty, Caranath, Guest, catlover1033, Delishus, Anna, Jabba1, Guest2, Kristy, Shani8, Harrypotter, and Guest3. _

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys**

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Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. Frank Hardy knew, because he was awake to see it. At five in the morning, he gave up the hope of getting any sleep and untangled himself from the covers. In a way, he was relieved not to have slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Nancy's wounded eyes. He didn't want to think what his dreams would have been like.

For once, Frank didn't bother making his bed before heading for the shower. There didn't seem to be much point, somehow. _How did I let my life become so messed up?_ he asked himself silently. For a painful moment, he let himself remember what he used to be like. Straight-A student at Harvard, passionate detective, reliable friend and brother, loving son and husband. Except he'd never really managed to be all that, had he? It was an elaborate illusion, one that he had bought into as much as anyone. In the end, it was Callie who had seen though it, Callie who had ultimately had the courage to shatter the pieces of their increasingly miserable lives.

He hadn't seen it like that at first, of course. He had been blindsided when she served him divorce papers, and it had taken him a long time to move past his bitterness. In the end, though, Frank had come to see what Callie had seen. Their marriage was a sham, a union between high school sweethearts who had grown into two strangers with a common past but no future. Callie had known what she wanted out of life, and ultimately she had realized that Frank would never be able to give it to her. Last Frank had heard, she was engaged to be married again, this time to a real estate broker in Connecticut. He wished her all the best. He just wished he knew what he wanted out of life with the same clarity.

And then there was Nancy. Passionate, determined, beautiful Nancy, who challenged him in a way no other woman ever had. She had been special as a teenager; now – just as she had declared she was walking out of his life for good – he was beginning to realize just what an extraordinary woman she had grown into. Someone he could fall in love with, someone he could want to spend the rest of his life with. Over the last few weeks, he had even allowed himself to dream she might want him one day. After last night, he knew better.

Frank was sipping on his second mug of coffee when Joe stumbled into the kitchen, yawning hugely.

"What are you doing up?" Frank asked. It was seven in the morning, and Joe rarely woke before noon on the weekend.

"I had trouble sleeping. After lying awake for the last hour, I figured I might as well get up." Joe looked Frank over. "Did you sleep at all?"

Frank shook his head mutely. Joe sighed softly and began pouring himself a bowl of cereal. For a while, the only sound was of Joe crunching his breakfast. Then Frank realized something.

"She left her stuff."

"What?" asked Joe, his voice muffled by a mouthful of food.

"Nancy. All her things are still here. Look – even her purse is still by the couch. She's going to have to come back to get it." Frank couldn't help the hopeful note that crept into his voice.

Joe grimaced. "I don't know. She might just decide to abandon everything and buy new stuff. She was pretty angry."

Frank's shoulders slumped. "I know," he said softly.

Joe gave him a wan smile. "We're not going to let her get away that easily," he said. "I don't care if we get arrested as stalkers. We'll grovel as much as we need to until she forgives us."

"I don't think she's ever going to forgive me," Frank said. "Not for nine years of silence, not for listening to Callie, not for any of it."

"So you're not going to try?" Joe challenged.

Frank sat up straighter. "I didn't say that," he snapped. Joe smirked at him, and Frank glared back. Joe's smirk widened.

"Hey, someone's got to keep you from moping around," Joe said.

"Isn't that what Mom always says to you?"

Joe's smile slipped. "So, I say we give Nancy until ten, and then we call and start groveling."

Frank's own lips quirked upward involuntarily. "Or until we fill up her voicemail."

Joe laughed. "Deal."

When they tried to dial Nancy's number, however, they discovered her phone was still in her purse.

"Now what?" asked Joe. "Frank? Frank! What are you doing? You can't go through Nancy's purse! Girls are very protective about that kind of stuff. She's going to kill you."

Frank didn't even look up from where he was sorting the contents of Nancy's purse on the floor. "I want to see if she has her wallet. She must have had her keys, or she would have been forced to come back here. If she had her wallet, she could have gone to a hotel. Otherwise, she might have driven straight back to Washington."

"In that storm?" Joe scoffed. "I doubt it."

"Well, I can't find her wallet, so odds are good she's at a hotel."

"Great!" Joe bounced up from his chair. "Check out's not until noon. Let's go!"

Frank rolled his eyes at his younger brother's enthusiasm. "First, we don't know what hotel she's at. Second, what do you think Nancy would do if we just showed up in her hotel lobby?"

Joe winced. "I take your point. So how do we find out where she stayed last night? Hotels don't give out that information."

Frank smirked as he picked up his phone and pulled up the number for the hotel Nancy had stayed in the last time she was in town. "Watch and learn, little brother. Hello? This is Detective Frank Hardy of the NYPD. I need to know if you had a female guest last night – thin, late twenties, light reddish blonde hair? She was most likely using the name 'Nancy Drew,' although it is possible she was using a different name. … Yes, I'll hold. … You think she might have stayed with you a few weeks ago, but not last night? No, I don't need the dates of her previous stay right now, but I will call again if that changes. … No, no, nothing like that. But if you happen to see her, could you please ask her to contact Detective Hardy? She'll know what it's in reference to. … Thank you very much, ma'am, you've been very helpful."

Joe slapped Frank on the back. "You're a genius! I knew your being a cop would come in handy some day."

Frank frowned absently. "I'd be more excited if Nancy had been there. I was so sure she'd go to the same hotel."

Joe deflated a little. "Ok, so now what?"

"Now I call every hotel in the area until I figure out where she stayed." Frank said with determination, picking up his phone again.

Two hours later, Frank had still found no sign of Nancy, and he was beginning to feel the stirrings of panic. He had called every hotel in the Bayport area, and then branched out to every hotel off the main route from Bayport to New York. He raked both hands through his hair, frustrated.

"Now what?" Joe asked. He was chewing at the corner of one fingernail, a sure sign he was worried too.

"Now, I check police records of car crashes to make sure no one's reported anything that could be Nancy," said Frank heavily.

Joe paused mid-bite. "Don't you think that's a little premature?"

"Dammit, Joe!" Frank's outburst startled both of them, and he took a deep breath. "Something's wrong. I can feel it. Nancy would have contacted us by now, if only to get the whole story behind how I got shot."

Frank could see the wheels in Joe's head turning as he weighed Nancy's insatiable curiosity against her fury the previous night. Finally, Joe nodded reluctantly. "I still think she's just that mad at us, but it can't hurt to check. But I think it's unlikely. Nancy's a great driver."

"Who tends to speed," Frank reminded him. "And who was very upset during a thunderstorm at night…"

Joe rubbed at his face tiredly. "I'll call some hospitals, see if anyone was checked in who matches her description."

"Tell them you're assisting the police in their inquiries," Frank advised. "Technically, it's true, and it may help cut through some of the red tape."

Another hour of searching, however, turned up nothing. Frank supposed he should be relieved not find out Nancy was in the hospital or worse, but somehow the lack of information was even more unsettling. It was as if Nancy had completely disappeared.

"I'm going for a drive," he announced suddenly. "I want to trace the route to the hotel Nancy stayed at last time. You coming?" Joe didn't even bother responding; he just followed Frank out the door.

Even driving slowly, Frank nearly missed the signs that a car had gone off the road just before the bridge over the Thorndale river. A few streaks of mud on the grassy plateau just before the bridge that the rain hadn't quite washed away was the only clue. Frank's heart started pounding as he pulled over and jumped out of the car. He was running as soon as his feet hit the ground, crossing the small plateau and jumping down the embankment, heedless of the mud splashing up his legs. All he could see was the wide swath of destruction something had cut recently, clearly visible once he was over the hill, breaking through bushes and leaving scrapes of bright blue paint on the trees. The embankment ended with a seven foot drop into the river. Frank stopped dead.

"Frank?" he heard Joe call from behind him. "Frank, what is it?" Then Joe caught up with him and stared. "Oh, _shit_," he swore as he saw what Frank had seen.

Clearly visible was Nancy's blue Mustang – completely submerged in the river.

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_Reactions? Thoughts? Comments? All music to an author's ears!_


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **_Reviewers! IloveMom, Lady Emily, max2013, Caranath, catlover1033, Jabba1, Smithy, Guest, Shani8, Poler bear, Guest2, Angelvie S., Delishus, j, Anon, and acf! I wish I had the time to thank each one of you personally - every review means so much to me._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.**

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"Thanks, Con. See you soon." With a sigh, Joe hung up. He had just finished calling one of his contacts at the Bayport police, and they had promised to send a team out as soon as possible. He scrubbed his face wearily with his hands. He wanted to believe they would find some evidence that Nancy had survived, even though he knew the outlook was grim. But he couldn't think about Nancy right now. He needed to focus on his brother. Frank was still standing where Joe had left him, at the edge of the escarpment, staring blindly at the sunken wreck of Nancy's car. As far as Joe could tell, Frank hadn't moved since first spotting it. He had hated to leave his brother, but someone needed to call the police, and it was clear that someone wouldn't be Frank. Joe was just about to head back down to his brother when he heard a car coming along the country road. Thinking it was the police, he looked back, but it was only a civilian van, dark blue and covered in mud. The driver pulled up behind Frank's car and hopped out from behind the wheel.

"You alright, son?" the man called over to Joe.

"Yeah," Joe started to say, but he choked on the word. Nancy was gone. How could he say he was okay? "There was an accident," he said instead. "Last night, from the looks of it. Someone's car went into the river. The police are on their way."

The man whistled softly. "Damn. Any sign of survivors?"

Joe shook his head, blinking back tears. "It might have been a friend of mine," he said gruffly by way of explanation as he swiped at his eyes.

"Tough break," the other man said sympathetically, scratching absently at a scar that ran the length of his left cheek. "Is there anything I can do to help you look for her?"

"No, thanks." Joe just wanted the guy to leave before he broke down completely. "There's not really any hope, not with the river as high as it is, and anyhow the cops will be here soon."

The man seemed to get Joe's hint, and with a last offer of his condolences, he left. The police arrived ten minutes later, with two divers ready for a search and rescue operation and a crane for extracting Nancy's car. Joe braced himself, knowing the divers were most likely to find Nancy's corpse. He slipped and slid his way back down the embankment. Frank was going to need every bit of support he could give.

"They're not going to find her," Frank said without turning as Joe came up behind him.

Joe winced. He had known Frank was in shock, but this level of denial was bad. "Frank," he began, but his brother cut him off.

"Look downstream," Frank said, pointing. "There, caught on that branch there. That's the driver's door of Nancy's car. She got out."

"She may not have been alive by that point," Joe said gently. Frank didn't respond, and the two brothers watched the police work in silence. After what seemed like hours, an officer waved them over. Joe squinted at the man's name tag. _Officer Miller_, he read. It was not a name he recognized.

"We need you two to stand clear so the crane can haul up the car," Miller told them. "And I'll need to get statements from you both, since it appears you two were the last ones to see Ms. Drew alive."

"Did you find anything?" Joe asked. Frank looked like he was trying not to be sick, and Joe didn't feel much better.

"There's no sign of a body, but we found a scrap of fabric caught on the same branch that trapped the car door. Our guess is that Ms. Drew's body got tangled in the branch before being swept out to sea."

"Agent Drew," said Frank firmly. "Not Ms. Drew. She works for the FBI. And if you haven't found her body, you have no reason to assume she's dead. She clearly wasn't trapped in the car. She could have escaped."

"Sir …"

"Detective Frank Hardy, NYPD," said Frank. Joe threw him a startled look. He rarely saw his brother pull rank on anyone. Officer Miller stiffened.

"Sir, with all due respect, do you really think anyone could have survived _that_?" He pointed back towards the river, behind the Hardys. For the rest of his life, Joe wished he hadn't turned around. The crane was pulling the crumpled wreck of Nancy's car out of the river. Dripping and sinister, it looked like the broken corpse of a metal monster.

Frank's face was white, but his jaw was set stubbornly. "Officer, you don't know Agent Drew. She's tough. If anyone could have survived this, it's her."

Joe exchanged a look with the officer. "Frank," he said gently, taking his brother by the arm, "why don't we leave the police to their work? After all, they're trained in search and rescue missions, and we're not. Officer, will you call me if you find any evidence that Nancy's alive? My brother's right – if anyone could survive this, it's her."

Officer Miller nodded, but insisted on getting their statements about Nancy's state of mind the previous night before he would let them go. Joe tried not to wince while giving his testimony. It seemed clear that Nancy had been too upset to drive in such poor weather. Guilt weighed on him like a stone. If only he had been able to placate her, if he had never convinced her to come up to Bayport in the first place … Joe gave himself a mental shake. There would be time for that later. Right now, he had to focus on Frank.

While Frank gave his statement, Joe took the opportunity to make a few quick phone calls. As soon as Frank was done, Joe grabbed him and steered him toward the car. "I'm driving," he announced. Frank didn't even protest as he handed over the keys; another bad sign. Frank hated when Joe drove his car. They drove in silence. For once, Joe concentrated on not speeding. The image of Nancy's car was too vivid, and he shuddered involuntarily every time they drove near a body of water. Frank, in contrast, stayed perfectly still, his unseeing gaze fixed on the horizon. It was only when Joe turned into their parents' neighborhood that Frank seemed to notice where they were.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

"Mom wanted us to come over for dinner," Joe responded.

"Does she …?"

"Yeah, she and dad both know about the accident. They don't know about the help we were giving Nancy, though."

Frank nodded absently, clearly tuning him back out. Joe looked at him worriedly. Usually, Frank saw everything so clearly and logically. Joe had no idea how to handle Frank when his brother was in such a deep state of shock.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

Frank's parents' voices droned on like so much white noise in his ears. He was vaguely aware of his mother embracing him and guiding him to the dinner table, of conversation ebbing and flowing around him while he ate mechanically. Something was bothering him, nagging at his subconscious, but every time he thought he had it in focus it squirmed away.

"… not sure how long he'll want to wait before having her declared legally dead," Frank heard his father's voice say. "With no body, he would be within his rights to wait a while." Frank looked at his father in confusion.

"Who?" he asked. Everybody looked at him in shock; it was the first time he had spoken since arriving.

"Carson Drew," Frank's own father, Fenton, responded gently. "I called him after we got Joe's phone call. He's probably on a plane right now; he's going to stay with your mother and I while he's in Bayport."

"When is he getting in?"

"Late tonight, honey," his mother, Laura, responded. There was sympathy in her voice, but there was steel there as well. "He'll want to see you boys tomorrow, though."

Frank had blanched at the thought of facing Nancy's father, but he nodded with as much stoicism as he could muster. It was no less than he deserved, after everything he had done to Nancy. Her father could hardly hate him more than he hated himself.

"I made brownies for dessert," Laura said brightly. "Frank, will you get them out of the kitchen, please?"

Frank stood. "Actually, Mom, would you mind if I took off? Can Joe get a ride home from one of you? I want to check something out."

Joe set his jaw stubbornly. "If you're going, I'm going too. Do you think I'd let you go off on your own?"

Frank focused on his brother, his dark eyes intent. "Joe. Something's not right here. I'm missing something, I can feel it."

"That's all the more reason for your brother to go with you," said Fenton. "Frank, you're in shock. You have no business driving anywhere right now, never mind looking for clues. Let the police handle searching for Nancy."

"Why do you all think she's dead?" Frank exploded suddenly. His family stared at him in shock. "There's no body, no blood, nothing! Nancy's a survivor. She could be hurt and alive somewhere. We're just abandoning her!"

Joe grabbed Frank's arm and all but dragged him into the living room. "What the hell is wrong with you, yelling like that?" he hissed. "Believe me, I want to believe Nancy's alive as badly as you do. But do you really think anyone could have survived crashing into that river?"

"Yes, I do." Frank's voice was low and intense. "The fact that the car door was ripped off has been bothering me, and I just figured out why. It could only have been torn off by the impact with the water, which means that Nancy had thrown it open before she crashed. She knew that if she hit the water with the doors closed, the pressure of the water would prevent her from being able to open the car doors or windows. So she gambled that she would survive the crash and be able to escape the car. We know her plan succeeded, at least partially, because of the scrap of fabric from her suit found by the police on that branch. Now, they're assuming that fabric was ripped from her corpse – but what if she was alive when she caught up against that branch? What if she used the branch as a lifeline to get herself to shore?"

After a moment, Joe nodded reluctantly. "It's possible – not probable, but it's possible," he admitted. "But then, why didn't she come forward when she heard us searching? Why didn't the police find any sign of her passage along the shore?"

"I don't know," Frank said. "But I have to check for myself."

Joe studied Frank for a long time, and Frank met his eyes intently, willing his brother to understand. At last, Joe said quietly, "You love her, don't you?" It wasn't really a question.

Frank closed his eyes, gathering his courage. "I don't know," he admitted, just as softly. He looked straight into his younger brother's eyes. "I … care about her. A lot. I don't know the woman she is now well enough to know anything more than that. If I hadn't been an idiot ... But I messed up, and – I don't know if Nancy's feelings for me ever really went beyond friendship, but I know she was hurt when I gave up whatever it was we had for Callie. That's why I have to believe in her now. I can't give up on her again."

Joe locked gazes with Frank for an interminable moment. Frank held his breath. He had just admitted more to Joe than he had ever admitted to anyone, including himself. If it wasn't enough –

"Here," said Joe abruptly, holding out Frank's car keys. "Go. I'll explain to Mom and Dad somehow, and I'll get a ride home. Don't do anything stupid, and if you haven't checked in by nine I'm sending out search parties."

Frank checked his watch. It was nearly seven, which meant he had a little over an hour of daylight left, and another hour to search with a flashlight. "Thanks," he said, grabbing the keys. He was out the front door before Joe had time to respond.

* * *

_To paraphrase Caranath: I know, my evilness is still showing. But I promise, the next update will FINALLY reveal whether or not I killed Nancy. And if I get lots of reviews, maybe I'll update early (shameless, I know, but what can I say? I really love your reviews!) ..._


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_Wow, I should try bribery more often! Thanks to catlover1033, Hlahabibty, bhar, RR, ILoveMom, Yoyos, Guest, Guest#2, Guest#3, Guest#4, anon, Guest#5, Guest#6, Smithy,and Guest#7 for the wonderful reviews. It was especially nice to hear from a mix of regulars and some of you lurkers - you know who you are!_

_Just a short update today, but I promise I'll update again as soon as the muse is finished with the next chapter._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.**_

* * *

**Chapter 11**

The sun was slanting through the trees when Frank arrived back at the site of Nancy's accident. Her car was gone, towed off by the police, but signs of their presence were everywhere. Muddy tire tracks crisscrossed the road and made deep indentations in the grass. Frank grabbed a flashlight from his glove compartment and made his way carefully down the embankment and over to the huge branch that had fallen into the water. The branch had pulled down part of the escarpment, turning it into a steep, muddy slope. Frank looked over the ground carefully but spotted nothing. Carefully, he slid down the slope to where the end of the branch lay, half buried in the mud. Mindful of the river's edge, only a few feet away, Frank examined the branch inch by inch. After about fifteen minutes, his persistence was rewarded. The evening sun glinted on some white threads caught on the rough bark near the shore. Frank was willing to bet good money that those fibers had come from Nancy's blouse, and that meant his theory was right. Nancy had been alive when she was caught on the tree branch, and she had used that branch to make it to land. Frank shuddered slightly, torn between gratitude for some proof that Nancy might still be alive and horror at how close she had come to dying. He knew how fast the river's current raged during a storm. The Atlantic was only a few more miles down river. If that branch hadn't been there to stop her, Nancy would have been swept away for good.

Frank shook himself. If Nancy had made it to shore, then she was somewhere in the woods, and he didn't know how badly she was injured. He had to find her.

Frank scrambled back up the muddy slope and studied the trees at the top, hoping to find another clue to which way Nancy had gone. The rain had washed away all traces of footprints, and there were no more handy clumps of thread to assist him. In the end, he resorted to roaming through the woods, shining his flashlight into clumps of bushes and occasionally calling her name.

The sun had slipped over the horizon by the time he thought he spotted something, an unnaturally-shaped lump dimly lit by the sunset's afterglow. Frank checked his watch. Eight thirty. He still had thirty minutes until he had to call Joe. Frank headed toward the object, his heart pounding triple-time. The closer he got to the object, the more it looked like a body sprawled awkwardly on the ground. The light was too faint for him to tell if the object was moving or not. His breath caught. Had he found Nancy too late? Frank's hand trembled as he switched on his flashlight and played the beam over the object from his position several yards away. The light clearly revealed the object to be the body of a slender woman. Even though the mud that coated it, he could see she had reddish gold hair. He had found her.

Frank dropped to his knees, crashing down into the undergrowth as tears sprang to his eyes, blinding him. He needed to go to her, he needed to check for a pulse, he needed to – he heard something move, and his head snapped up.

Nancy was on one knee, spotlighted by Frank's flashlight, and her gun was pointed directly at Frank's chest.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** _So today is my birthday, and it's been a great day so far. How could it be anything else when I know I have the best readers in the world? Thank you so much to those of you who took the time and effort to review: Guest1 (Caranath), Shani8, hlahabibty, Guest2, Vball gurl, ILoveMom, Delishus, Guest3, Stork Hardy, Lady Emily, Platero, Smithy, centaurdy jackson, bhar, hardydrewsgirl, Guest4, kvance, max2013, and Guest5!_

___**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. Though if anyone wanted to give me them for my birthday, I'd be grateful!**_

* * *

**Chapter 12**

"Nancy?" Frank called, or at least tried to call. It came out as more of a croak. "Nancy, it's Frank."

Nancy blinked. Her gun didn't waver, but even from a few yards away, he could see that her blue eyes were clouded and glassy.

"Nancy?" he called again, and this time he sounded like himself. "Nancy, I'm going to point my flashlight at myself now so you can see me, ok?" Careful not to startle her, Frank slowly suited his actions to his words. When the flashlight hit his face, he heard Nancy give a little cry.

"Frank?" she asked. Her voice wavered, making her sound young and vulnerable. Frank heard a soft rustle as Nancy holstered her gun, and that was all the encouragement he needed to rush to her side. He was barely in time to catch her as she slumped back to the ground.

Close up, he could see that Nancy was badly battered. There was dried blood as well as mud in her bedraggled hair and around some of the rips in her clothing, and a dark bruise spread over part of her face. "How badly are you hurt?" he asked, stroking her hair lightly. He could feel a large lump on the back of her head.

Nancy laughed hoarsely. "Not bad," she replied. Frank gave her a look of disbelief as she continued. "A mild concussion and a sprained ankle. Otherwise, I think it's just cuts and bruises, nothing broken. And some fever from the exposure. I'll live."

"We need to get you to a hospital," Frank began, but Nancy cut him off.

"No! No hospital. Frank, everyone thinks I'm dead, don't they?"

"Yes," Frank admitted reluctantly. "But that's all the more reason …"

"It wasn't an accident," said Nancy.

"What?" Frank exclaimed, shocked.

"My accident. It wasn't an accident. I was forced off the road, and I ended up in the river. If they think I'm dead, I want to keep it that way."

Unconsciously, Frank tightened his hold around her. Was it his imagination, or did Nancy relax ever so slightly into his embrace?

"Then you're coming with me," he said. "Joe and I will hide you until we figure out our next step."

"I can't let you guys risk yourselves like that," Nancy protested, but Frank cut her off.

"Yes, you can and you will," he told her firmly. "You're back in our lives now, Drew, like it or not. Besides, what other options do you have? Staying out here? Hitchhiking somewhere?"

"I hate it when you're reasonable, Frank Hardy," Nancy muttered. Frank laughed softly, startling himself. A few hours earlier, he had thought he would never laugh again.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get you back to my car." He helped Nancy to her feet and started guiding her in the direction of the road. She was limping badly, her face creased in obvious pain, and after the third time she stumbled Frank had had enough.

"This is ridiculous, Nan," he said.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Nancy snapped.

"This," Frank said simply, and before she could do more than squawk in protest, he had scooped her up into his arms.

"Put me down!" she hissed, pounding weakly against his chest. "I can walk, thank you very much!"

"Not well," he replied calmly, "and not very fast. We're going to lose the light soon; we need to make it to the car first."

Nancy started muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath, but she stopped struggling. Frank tried to ignore her and focus on finding his way through the forest. After a few minutes, he realized the string of imprecations had stopped, and Nancy's head was lolling against his arms. He gathered her close with a tenderness he knew he could never show her when she was conscious, and pressed his cheek against her forehead. Despite her clammy, mud-soaked clothes, she was burning up with fever. He had to get her home as soon as possible.

They reached the car a little before nine, and Frank hesitated a long moment before leaving the shelter of the trees. He told himself it was because he wanted to be certain that no one else was around, but the truth was that he didn't want to let Nancy go. Two hours earlier, he had been half convinced she was dead, no matter what he had told his family. Now, he finally had her in his arms. She was covered in dirt and blood and she smelled like river water, but she was alive. Frank thought he had never seen anyone more beautiful.

Frank's pocket buzzed insistently, breaking the moment. _Joe, _he thought, and sighed. It was just as well. He had no right to be mooning over Nancy when she needed medical attention.

As gently as he could, he lay Nancy down in the backseat of his car, or at least he tried to. She whimpered in her sleep and clung to him. Daringly, he kissed her forehead as he shushed her, and she quieted. _She'll kill me if she ever finds out I did that_, he thought ruefully, his lips tingling where they had brushed her skin. It was still worth it.

After he got Nancy settled in the back to his satisfaction, he covered her with an old blanket that he had in his trunk. It smelled musty, but it would serve the dual purpose of keeping her warm and shielding her from prying eyes. Only then did he pull out his frantically vibrating phone and send Joe a text.

_On way. Can't talk. Move your car out of garage._

He knew his cryptic message would drive his brother crazy, but Nancy's paranoia had rubbed off on him. Besides, he didn't want to take the time to write a long note. Keeping an eye on his rearview mirror, just in case, Frank drove back to his apartment.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

Nancy blearily opened her eyes at the sound of someone insistently calling her name. She opened her eyes to see Frank Hardy watching at her from just outside of a car's open door, his warm brown eyes concerned. A car. She was in Frank's car. A quick glance around showed her that car was now parked in the Hardys' little garage.

"Ugh," she groaned as she tried to sit up. Her head was spinning, sparklers of pain pinging behind her eyes and traveling down her battered body. Frank helped her scoot out of his car, careful of her injured ankle.

"Just a little longer, and we'll get some food in you," he said encouragingly. Nancy's stomach growled at his words; it had been more than twenty four hours since she'd had any food or water. The river water she'd swallowed while trying not to drown definitely didn't count.

"Frank," she said. His dark eyes locked with her blue ones. "Thanks for coming for me." Was it her fevered imagination, or did his gaze soften tenderly? The world was spinning too much for her to be sure.

"Nancy," Frank began, but he was interrupted by a loud clattering coming down the stairs. Joe burst into the garage, the door to their private stairwell banging behind him. Nancy winced as the noise hit her sensitive ears.

"What the hell?" Joe demanded angrily. "It's almost ten. I was ready – Nancy!" The younger Hardy stumbled to a sudden stop, looking at Nancy as though she was a ghost. Nancy wondered grimly if he thought she was. "Oh my God," Joe whispered. "You found her."

"Hey, Joe," Nancy said tiredly, and began to limp towards him. Even with Frank's strong arm supporting her, she only made it a few steps before her legs gave out. Frank scooped her up, just like he had in the woods. This time, Nancy felt too ill to protest.

"How bad is she?" she heard Joe ask.

"Not bad, _she_ says," Frank responded, and Joe snorted. With her head pressed against his chest, Nancy heard Frank's voice as a rich rumble. "Exposure, dehydration, hunger – not to mention a sprained ankle, a concussion, and a mess of cuts and bruises. She isn't acting like she has any broken bones, but you've had your EMT training more recently, so …"

Frank's voice sounded more and more distant as Nancy's tenuous grip on consciousness began to fade. The last thing she was aware of was the warmth of Frank's arms, holding her close.

Nancy woke only when Frank tried to lay her down on the couch. She struggled briefly before realizing where she was. With consciousness came awareness of Frank's nearness – his faintly spicy smell and the sound of his heartbeat loud against her ear.

_He was shot in the chest and no one told me._Nancy didn't know where the thought came from, but suddenly she couldn't get out of his arms fast enough. She landed on the couch hard enough to make her yelp, but she managed to glare at Frank through the pain. His look flickered from concern to resignation.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Frank forced her to drink some sort of violently blue sports drink, despite her concussion-induced nausea, and Joe coaxed her into eating some crackers and taking some acetaminophen. Showering was difficult due to her ankle, but she managed. Changing into clean clothes pulled from the bag she had luckily left behind was heavenly. As soon as she was dressed in the most comfortable clothing she'd brought, she lowered herself carefully to the floor. She only meant to rest for a moment, but she was fast asleep within minutes. She didn't even stir when Frank carefully lifted her and carried her and tucked her into his bed, nor when he crept out of his room and quietly shut the door behind him.

**_NDHBNDHB_**

"How is she?" Joe asked as soon as his brother reappeared in the living room.

"Feverish and fast asleep," Frank replied. He collapsed on the couch and scrubbed his hands though his hair, a sure sign he was upset. "I wish we could take her to the hospital."

"Yeah, me too," Joe agreed. "But we'll have Mom look at her tomorrow; she can inspect Nancy more thoroughly than we can."

Frank looked at Joe in confusion. "I wasn't planning on telling Mom that Nancy's alive. I wasn't planning on telling _anyone_."

"Mom and Dad are coming over with Carson tomorrow, remember? We can't keep this from Nancy's dad."

Frank rubbed his face. "I must be more tired than I thought. I completely forgot about that."

"Well I, for one, am glad we get to tell Carson that his daughter's alive, and not that she was so upset from fighting with us that she drove her car into a river," Joe said with a snort. He sobered. "I can't believe you found her. Hell, I can't believe she's alive. That river should have killed her."

Frank managed a smirk. "I hate to say 'I told you so,' little brother, but …"

"But you told me so. Yeah, yeah, I get it." Joe rolled his eyes. "Why don't you hit the shower? You look like crap."

Frank gave him a half smile. "I feel like crap. Can I borrow some clothing? I don't want to risk waking Nancy by going in to my room."

Joe nodded. _You just saved Nancy's life, _he thought, eyeing his brother surreptitiously as Frank moved off. _What are you so scared of?_

When Frank came back twenty minutes later, Joe had his plan of attack ready. "Nancy seems to have forgiven us," he noted casually.

Frank snorted. "Forgiven you, you mean. She's just too woozy to remember why she's angry at me." He flopped on the couch and shifted irritably. At six foot one, he was only an inch taller than Joe, but he was built along leaner lines. Consequently, his borrowed clothing hung off him, making him look younger than his twenty nine years.

Joe resisted the urge to throw something. "That doesn't even make sense."

"Sure it does. Did you see how she glared at me after I put her down on the couch? She'd clearly just remembered."

Joe grimaced. He had seen. "Okay," he admitted, "but it works both ways. When her fever goes down, she'll realize she owes you her life, and she'll get over her anger. And then, bam! You two talk, confess your mutual love, live happily ever after. Oh, and we take out whoever's put a hit out on Nancy."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Just like that, huh?"

Joe grinned. "Hey, you're the one who likes to plan things, remember? I just go with the flow."

"Joe, Nancy's made it very clear what her feelings for me are, and they're about as far from love as you can get. Besides, I said I thought I _might_ be in love with her, not that I was. You don't tell a girl that!"

This time Joe did throw a pillow. Frank dodged it easily. "Please," Joe said. "I'm not actually an idiot, you know. You've been in love with her since the first time she smiled at you. And she clearly cares about you or she wouldn't be so mad at you in the first place."

Frank looked hopeful for a second, but then he slumped back on the couch. "Now who's not making sense?" he said.

"Frank –"

"Give it a rest, Joe." Frank made a show of grabbing a blanket and lying down on the couch. "I'm going to sleep."

Joe sighed softly in defeat.

* * *

_Reviews make the best birthday presents ever (hint, hint ...)_


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** _EEEEEK! I turned into one of THOSE authors! I am so sorry about the delay. I wish I could say it will never happen again, but real life is totally kicking my ass right now. This much, however, I can promise: I will NEVER abandon a story I have started. No matter what, that story is getting finished eventually. So I hope that relieves peoples' minds at least a little. Although I know "eventually" can be a long time ..._

_A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed and PMed me with comments, encouragement, and prodding: ILoveMom, beachgirlsrule, Lady Emily, Rhetor, kvance, Platero, Guest1, Shani8, bhar, hlahabibty, Guest2, Smithy, Harrypotter, J, Jabba1, Ray, FreshKicks, Becs, Caranath, Guest3, Pittsburggggg, max2013, Sunshine, mg, and Frosty. Phew! You all have brought the sun out on some fairly rainy days._

_Now, without further ado:_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys. **_

* * *

**Chapter 13**

"Wait, I'm confused. Can we start from the beginning?"

It was Tuesday, three days after Nancy had been found, and Joe was sitting with Nancy and Frank in Frank's room, rehashing what they knew about the attempt on Nancy's life. At least, that was what they were trying to do; Nancy was still feverish, and her account of events was slightly incoherent.

"First, Nancy needs more medicine," Frank interrupted.

"Stop being such a mother hen, Hardy," Nancy groused. "I swear, you have my medication schedule down to the second." Joe tried not to laugh. He was fairly certain it was true.

"Mom said you should take two acetaminophen every four hours with a large glass of orange juice to deal with the fever and dehydration," Frank responded. "And you promised your dad you would follow her instructions or go to the hospital." Carson Drew and the Hardys' parents had arrived as promised on Sunday and, unsurprisingly, were shocked to discover that Nancy was alive and being hidden in the brothers' apartment. Nancy's father had broken down crying, and Laura and Fenton Hardy weren't much better. All three parents had tried to persuade Nancy to go to the hospital, but she was adamant that it was safer for her to play dead. In the end, she had worn them down, though not before her father had extracted the aforementioned promise. Privately, Joe thought it said a great deal about Nancy Drew that even sick, she could out-stubborn three of the most stubborn people he knew.

"Fine," Nancy grumbled. She was lying on the bed, pillows propping up her head and her swollen ankle. Frank was sitting in front of his desk, while Joe was sprawled comfortably on the floor. "But only because I promised my dad."

"You know, Drew, I really admire what a great patient you make," Joe teased. "So mature."

"I've seen you in the hospital, Joe Hardy," Nancy tossed back. "You make me look like a saint."

Frank and Joe both laughed. "She's got you there, Joe," Frank said.

Joe grinned. "Hey, I never said I didn't understand the impulse."

"Okay, so here's what we know," Frank said, interrupting the banter to press a glass of orange juice into Nancy's hand. She grimaced but sipped at it dutifully. "Nancy suspected there was an informant at the FBI, and came to us for assistance. We dug up enough evidence to justify a formal investigation – at least in our opinion. When Nancy took the evidence to her boss – Graham? – Graham, he essentially dismissed it out of hand and put her on probation. Nancy came up here, and was ultimately deliberately forced off the road by an unidentified person or persons.

"The questions we have to ask are: Who tried to kill Nancy? Was it a deliberate attempt on her life, or was it an attempt to scare her that got out of hand? If it was the mafia, how did they know Nancy was here? And the most important question of all: why did she worry them?"

"It was a van," said Nancy suddenly. Her eyes were unfocused, squinting back in time. "The car that ran me off the road. It was a dark van. It trailed me for a while before it got aggressive. When it got too dangerous, I decided to pull off the road and hide in the woods. Ironically, it was because I was afraid they'd ram me over the side of a cliff or something. Anyhow, just as I pulled onto the grass, they rammed me, hard, from behind, and I couldn't stop …"

Nancy trailed off, shuddering. Joe hopped on to the bed next to her and put an arm around her protectively, trying to ignore the way Frank's face went completely blank as he did so. Then he cursed softly as a memory surfaced.

"Was it a dark blue van? With tinted windows? Driven by a guy with dark hair and a scar on the side of his face?" he asked, feeling a little sick.

"I couldn't really see," Nancy said with a hint of asperity, but Joe could feel her trembling against him. "Why?"

"Because I think I saw him," Joe replied. He winced as the other two looked at him in shock. "When I was calling the police, after Frank found your car, a guy pulled up and asked a few questions. Is everything ok, can I do anything to help, that sort of thing. At the time, I thought he was just a random good Samaritan, you know? But now …"

"Could you describe the car in any more accurately?" Frank interrupted.

Joe shook his head miserably. "I didn't pay much attention to him. I was pretty distracted at the time. I only remember that it had tinted windows because Dad and I are trying to find something new with tinted windows for the agency."

"Do you remember anything else?" Frank urged.

Joe let his mind drift back, trying to recall anything else.

_Joe barely even looked at the man who walked up next to him; he was too preoccupied thinking about Nancy and worrying about Frank. He responded to the man's questions almost mechanically, but he remembered being embarrassed at how readily tears sprang to his eyes when the man asked if anyone had survived the crash._

_ "It might have been a friend of mine," he had said gruffly._

_"Tough break," the other man had said sympathetically. He spoke with the faintest trace of a Brooklyn accent, and he had a jagged scar running the length of the left side of his face. "Is there anything I can do to help you look for her?"_

_"No, thanks." Joe just wanted the guy to leave before he broke down completely. "There's not really any hope, not with the river as high as it is, and anyhow the cops will be here soon."_

Joe's head snapped up. "He knew the victim was female," he breathed.

"What?" Frank asked, just as Nancy protested, "Victim?"

"The guy from the van. I told him my friend was in a car accident, and he asked if 'she' was okay – but I never told him my friend was a girl. He already knew."

"Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't swear to it in court, but yeah, I'm reasonably sure."

"That means you were talking to Nancy's would-be killer," Frank said. "I guess he wanted to see if he'd finished the job."

Joe clenched his fists, furious with himself. "And I thought he was being friendly," he growled. "I should have beaten him to a pulp."

"Could you have?" Nancy asked.

Joe snorted. "He wasn't that big. Oily looking guy – looked like a used car salesman. Guys like that don't – hey! How'd you get me to remember all that?"

Nancy smirked. "FBI, remember? I know a few tricks. I'll use the internet to put together a lineup of photos for you to look at; I have a hunch I know who this guy was."

"Here." Frank grabbed his laptop and handed it to Nancy. Joe noticed how their hands touched a little longer than necessary and wondered which one of them was responsible. "Go ahead and do it now."

"Anxious, Hardy?"

"Let's just say I have a hunch that we're about to make a major breakthrough," Frank replied with a smile. Nancy flushed and bent over the computer busily. Joe moved away to let her work and studied her thoughtfully. It was the first time he could remember Nancy not shooting down one of Frank's attempts at flirting. _Perhaps there's hope for those two yet,_ Joe thought.

Ten minutes later, Joe was flipping through a stack of printouts, trying to identify the man he had seen. Within five minutes, he had found a picture.

"That guy," he said confidently, tossing the sheet on Nancy's lap. Nancy's smile was distinctly self-satisfied.

"Il Pugno," she said. "The Fist. It's a code name, of course. His real name is Jared Davis, and he's one of the Petrucellis' top hit men. He's a small man, but he's deadly. We've been after him for years. I must have _really_ pissed someone off for them to send Puggy after me."

"And that makes you look like a cat that ate the canary because …" Joe prompted.

"It means she was on to something important, much more important than a lowly informant," Frank said.

"Whoever our leak is, he or she must know a lot about the Petrucellis," Nancy continued Frank's explanation. "Puggy only does important, difficult hits." She smirked again. "Having him come after me also means whoever put the hit out on me didn't expect me to go down easily."

Both Hardys laughed. "If only they knew how right they were," Joe cracked.

"I'm glad they don't," Frank said soberly, and Joe's laughter faded. With Nancy safe in their apartment, he was finding it all too easy to forget the horrible hours when he had believed Nancy dead. Frank, it seemed, wasn't having that problem.

"If they knew you wouldn't go down easily, Nan," Frank continued, "that means they know you pretty well."

"So who would know you and could have known that you thought there was an informant on your team?" Joe asked. Nancy frowned in thought.

"Well, there's Graham, of course, and anyone he might have told about my probation. I didn't tell anyone – come to think of it, Graham ordered me not to. He would have had to tell someone in Internal Affairs, but that wouldn't work – the leak has to be someone on our team. After that, he could have told anyone on the team, but since he ordered me not to talk about it because it would ruin morale, I have to think he wouldn't have told anyone unless they needed to know."

"So who would have needed to know?" Frank prompted as Nancy showed signs of losing her focus. The fever was clearly taking its toll.

"Um, Lauren Johnson would have needed to know. She's Graham's second in command. She was also one of our original suspects. And Graham might have told Goldstein, but I'm sure Goldstein's straight. That he's not on the mafia's payroll, I mean."

"Because he's your partner?" Frank challenged. "Even though you didn't trust him enough to go to him instead of us?"

"I was just being thorough!" Nancy protested. "What do you have against Phil? You've never even met him!"

"Your partner should have your back," Frank said testily. "This Goldstein let you traipse off when the mob had a hit on you!"

"Frank, don't you think you're being unreasonable?" Joe said. He wanted to intervene before the other two started really fighting. "Unless Goldstein is the mole, he was hardly in a position to know that someone wanted to murder Nancy."

"Fine," Frank conceded, "but Nancy, by your own admission, no one on your team knows you better."

Nancy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "True," she admitted. "But that also means there's no one I know better. Honestly, I think we should bring him in. He's got to be freaking out, thinking I'm dead."

"How about this?" Joe said quickly, just as Frank opened his mouth angrily. "Why don't Frank and I think of some way to test him and see if we can prove he's innocent? If he passes the test, we'll bring him in. God knows that we could use a person we trust at the FBI. Is that okay with you, Nancy?"

Nancy nodded, her eyelids starting to flutter closed. "But it had better be a fair test, or else. Is that clear, Frank?"

"I promise," Frank replied, sounding slightly sullen. Nancy seemed satisfied, though; her breathing was already starting to take on the steady cadence of sleep. Joe looked at Frank and jerked his chin towards the door, and both brothers left the bedroom quietly.

"Are you really okay with this?" Joe asked Frank as soon as the door closed behind them. Frank shrugged, his hands jammed in his pockets.

"Do I have a choice?"

"Not really. But I promise you this – if Goldstein is our man, we will make him wish the mob had gotten to him first. Deal?"

Frank bared his teeth in a wolfish smile. "Deal."

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_Review?_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **_Many thanks to my awesome reviewers: Shani8, Caranath, max2013, kvance, j, mg, Guest, hlahabibty, Jabba1, SpinalCoil, Harrypotter, and Severedwasp. I really, really, really appreciate you all taking the time to review, even if it was just to drop a few words telling me what you thought._

_This chapter is dedicated to everyone who has been begging me for more Nancy and Frank interaction ..._

_**Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.**_

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**Chapter 14**

Frank got home on Friday in a terrible mood. He had spent the day in New York at a departmental conference on cyber-terrorism, and after reviewing worst case scenario after worst case scenario, he felt worse than incompetent. He was good with computers, but he had no idea how to counter most of the attacks that had been discussed. It was on days like these that he contemplated leaving the NYPD and joining his father and brother's private agency. At least there, he could feel like he was solving mysteries. These days he mostly felt like a glorified IT help desk.

He heard the shower running and checked his watch. Nine o'clock. Joe was on a date, so the person in the shower must be Nancy. _Great deduction, detective,_ Frank thought sourly, trying to push images of Nancy out of his mind. _No wonder you're not doing anything useful._

Ever since Nancy had arrived, Frank had avoided being in his room as much as possible. He wanted Nancy to feel as though she had some privacy. But if Nancy was in the shower, that meant his room was free. If he was fast, he might be able to change out of his suit before she got out.

Frank had only managed to stow his gear and change his shirt when he heard the water shut off. With a sigh, Frank locked the cabinet where he kept his gun and closed his closet door. He hurried out of his room in an effort to avoid Nancy, and promptly managed to run right into her. Nancy cried out as the force of the impact sent her stumbling back on her sprained ankle, and reflexively Frank grabbed her and pulled her close.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. Her voice sounded breathless, and higher than normal. "Just rolled my ankle a little."

Details of Nancy's appearance began to sink in to Frank's consciousness as he held her. Details like the fact that she was only wearing a towel, and that her damp hair smelled like his shampoo. He had grabbed her by the shoulders, and her bare skin felt warm and dangerously inviting. Time took on a dreamlike quality as they stood there, frozen. Nancy's hands were pressed against Frank's chest, burning through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. She was trembling, Frank realized. So was he.

Frank knew he should say something, should release her and end their embrace, but he couldn't. She was too real, too appealing, too sexy – Frank broke off his train of thought before it went too far into the realm of fantasy. As it was, he knew he'd be having vivid dreams about this moment for weeks to come.

Frank took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to prepare himself to let her go. But then Nancy's hands began to move tentatively over his chest. Electricity seemed to shoot through his body, and his hands began to caress Nancy's bare shoulders of their own volition. Frank's mouth was dry, and his breath was coming in gasps. He knew Nancy could tell he was aroused, but he was well past being capable of hiding anything.

Nancy's eyes were following the motions of her hands, which had moved to stroking his shoulders. Frank could only hope she was feeling something along the lines of what he was feeling. He felt naked under her gaze, stripped to his soul, and every fiber of his being was aching for her. At last, Nancy raised her head and her eyes locked with his. His breath caught. Her blue eyes were dark with desire, and the last threads of his self control began to disintegrate.

"Nancy," he whispered raggedly, and suddenly his hands were around her slender waist and her hands were pulling his head down into a heated kiss. Thought vanished the moment their lips met. There was only the sensation of Nancy in his arms, her skin damp and softer than silk, her lips moving over his neck, her hands running over his body. Somehow, Frank remembered to shut the door behind them as they half fell into his bedroom, and then he was lost in blissful oblivion.

_**NDHBNDHB**_

_Oh my God,_ Nancy thought. _I just slept with Frank Hardy._ Part of her wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl, while the other part of her – which also happened to be the part of her that wasn't wearing any clothes – wanted to crawl under the sheets and hide. What did Frank think of her? It had all happened so fast. Did he think that was her usual style? She should feel regret, but somehow, she just couldn't bring herself to do so. It had been amazing. If only Frank felt the same … For a brief, sweet moment, Nancy allowed herself to hope.

Then Frank rolled over and met her eyes. "Nancy," he said guiltily, and Nancy quickly put a finger over his lips.

"Don't," she said, disappointment making her voice harsh. "Don't you dare say it, Hardy."

"I have to, Nan," he replied raggedly. His lips were soft against her fingertips, and for a moment she thought she saw her longing mirrored in his eyes. "I never meant –" Then they both jumped as the apartment door banged open and Joe's voice was suddenly calling their names. Panicked and more than a little angry at his fumbling apology, Nancy shoved Frank away.

"Quick," she hissed at him. "Throw some clothes on and tell Joe I wanted to take a nap or something. I'll be out in a bit."

"What?" Frank asked loudly. Nancy shushed him frantically.

"Do you want Joe to know what just happened? Do you want to deal with all those questions?" Nancy's anger was fueled by her disappointment. Once again, Frank had made clear that he didn't want her. All it had been for him after all was a heated encounter that had gone too far.

"Fine," Frank hissed back, looking like he was having trouble keeping a grip on his own temper. "And what have we supposedly been doing that's tired you out so much?"

"Talking about the case; what else do we talk about?"

"Plenty!"

"Like what?"

Frank opened his mouth and shut it again. Nancy smiled in bitter satisfaction. "Say I was convincing you to give Goldstein an honest chance – Goldstein! Frank, Phil can _not _find out about this." Nancy suddenly felt frantic. Goldstein would tease her mercilessly unless she confessed how much she liked Frank, and she wasn't prepared to do that. "Oh, God, or Bess or George. Especially Bess. You have to promise me, Frank. No one will know."

Nancy missed the way Frank's jaw clenched at the mention of Goldstein. "Fine," he snapped. "We'll just pretend this never happened."

"Fine," Nancy snapped back. Some part of her realized they were acting like children, but she was too angry and hurt to care. Still, she couldn't help but watch as Frank threw on some clothes, raked his fingers through his hair, and stalked out. Then she buried her face in his pillow and silently sobbed her heart out.

_**NDHBNDHB**_

It took all of Frank's willpower to refrain from slamming the door behind him on his way out. What the hell had just happened? One moment, he had been with Nancy, and everything had been perfect. Then suddenly she was literally shoving him out the door and insisting they act as though they had never made love. And it had been making love, for him at least. He had no idea what it had been for Nancy, which was why he wanted to apologize. He didn't want to risk her thinking he had been taking advantage of her.

Frank stalked over to the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the refrigerator, ignoring his brother's inquiring stare. Popping the cap, he took several large swallows before turning to face Joe, his best poker face in place. The two brothers stared at each other for a minute.

"Is everything okay?" Joe finally asked.

"Honestly? I have no idea," Frank replied irritably.

"Did something happen while I was gone?"

Frank paused before responding. "I'm not sure," he said, trying to cover the anger in his voice by taking another swig of beer. "Can we talk about something else?"

"Sure," said Joe. His agreeable tone was belied by his keen gaze. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How was your date?"

"I'm home before ten on a Friday evening, Sherlock. How do you think it was?"

"Ha ha," Frank replied dryly. "And here I thought you were just being responsible about having to leave early tomorrow."

Joe fidgeted. "Yeah," he said slowly, "about that…"

"What? Did Goldstein refuse to meet with you?" Frank brightened slightly. Joe was supposed to meet with Nancy's partner in Washington the next day. If Goldstein didn't want to meet with Joe, it could be a sign of a guilty conscience.

"Not exactly," Joe replied. "He refused to meet with me alone. He wants to meet you too."

"What?" Frank glared at his brother. "I don't want to meet with that jackass!"

"Well, you're going to anyhow, so you'll just have to deal. Besides, you promised Nancy you'd keep an open mind, remember?"

"How could I forget?" Frank muttered. At Joe's curious look, he elaborated, "Nancy's been harping on that. Apparently she doesn't trust me to keep my promises."

Joe let that remark slide. Instead, he went over to the kitchen and grabbed himself a beer. "Do you want another one?" he asked. Frank nodded, his jaw set. Given the day he was having, a second beer definitely seemed in order.

Joe let Frank get halfway through his second beer before asking, "Why are you so convinced that Nancy's partner is guilty?"

Frank grimaced. "I just think that Nancy's too quick to defend the guy."

Joe nodded understandingly. "So you're jealous."

Frank opened his mouth to protest, then slumped back again the couch instead. The alcohol was doing its work. "She likes him," Frank admitted, so quietly that he could barely hear himself. Joe sighed.

"I hate to be the one to say this, big brother, but I think you need to be more professional." That earned Joe a glare, and Joe threw up his hands in protest. "I'm sorry, but you're letting your judgment be clouded by your personal issues, and it's getting in the way of the case."

Frank studied his beer for a minute, then met Joe's gaze. "You do realize how ironic it is for _you_ to be lecturing _me_ about this, don't you?" he asked.

Joe snorted. "Yeah, and I really wish you would get a grip, because being the rational brother is way too much work. Now, about Goldstein …"

By the time Nancy emerged, about half an hour later, the brothers had formed the basic outline of a plan for testing Nancy's partner. Frank made the mistake of glancing at Nancy as she came into the living room; images of them making love immediately blistered his consciousness, making him shift uncomfortably. He couldn't help but admire Nancy's skill as an actress as she joined their conversation as casually as if their passionate interlude had never taken place, though she never quite managed to meet Frank's eyes.

For his part, Frank studied her in quick glances, hoping for some sign that being together had meant something to her, praying that he hadn't just taken advantage of her in a weak moment. All he could see, however, was that Nancy's eyes were red and slightly swollen. She had been crying, and it was all his fault.

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_Pretty please review?_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N:** _I hit 200 reviews! Wow. Just wow. __Thank you so much to Caranath, bhar, LeeLee, kvance, max2013, Jabba1, j, Anon, Shani8, SpinalCoil, and Harrypotter, as well as everyone else who's taken the time to review in the past. The warmth of my welcome into this little fanfic community has been just amazing, and I'm so grateful to each and every one of you._

**__****Disclaimer: I do not own Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys.**

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**Chapter 15**

_Drew, where are you when I need you? _Phillip Goldstein thought for the hundredth time since Joe Hardy had called him. He was sitting in a booth at the back of his favorite bar, waiting for the two Hardys to meet him. It was the middle of the afternoon on Saturday, too late for lunch but too early for dinner, and only a handful of diehards were sitting at the bar nursing drinks. They were all agents; Goldstein knew each of them by name. It was where he expected to end up – a grizzled old man among grizzled old men, all of whom had seen too much.

It seemed years ago that he had spotted Drew here, nursing her own drink and wounded feelings after yet another bad date. She was the best partner he'd ever had, although he'd never told her that. Drew was already a bit of a loose cannon, and the last thing he'd wanted to do was make her cockier. FBI agents needed to know when to toe the line and when to step over it. Now, he wished he'd told her. She had deserved to know.

Her death had come as a shock. Spitfires like Nancy Drew weren't supposed to die in something as mundane as a car crash. He wasn't supposed to lose his partner to an accident he couldn't prevent. And now Drew's old friends wanted to speak to him. Friends that Drew had only mentioned in the context of teenaged antics, never in the context of an ongoing friendship. He had had the impression that she still thought fondly of Joe, but his brother Frank was a whole different matter. Despite her obvious effort to conceal it, her tone turned bitter whenever Frank's name came up. Goldstein had wondered more than once what had happened there. A romance gone sour, perhaps? He never did manage to tease the specifics out of her. Somehow, though, she had ended up visiting them just before she died ...

The whole thing smelled funny, and Goldstein had learned long ago to trust his instincts. Why was Nancy visiting old friends she didn't seem particularly friendly with? Why had she never mentioned the visit to him? They had been chatting about her plans for the weekend the same day that she ended up driving to New York, and she hadn't said a word. Why did Joe Hardy – now a private investigator, of all things – want to talk to him, and why was he so reluctant to discuss it over the phone?

The front door of the restaurant chimed as two men stepped in, blinking as their eyes adjusted from the brilliant sunshine outside. Goldstein's eyes narrowed as he studied them. So these were the Hardys.

They were both tall and fit, and Goldstein couldn't help but notice that they were extremely handsome. Though a close inspection showed that their features were similar enough to make it clear they were related, they looked very different at first glance. One had dark hair and a lean build, while the other was more Goldstein's type – blond and muscular, with broad shoulders and a trim waist. The blond Hardy was also apparently the charmer of the two, judging by the way he was smiling at the pretty hostess who was coming to greet them. Goldstein couldn't help a silent sigh. It was a pity; if he had met the guy under different circumstances he'd be asking for his number. The dark haired brother, on the other hand, was ignoring the girl in favor of scanning the restaurant. His gaze – not particularly friendly – landed on Goldstein, and Goldstein returned the stare steadily. He wondered if he was looking at Frank or Joe Hardy. His money was on Frank; the dark haired guy seemed intense, and his impression of Joe Hardy over the phone was that the man was fairly easy going.

The impromptu staring contest was broken when the blond nudged his brother's arm and began walking towards Goldstein's booth. When they were only a few feet away, Goldstein stood to greet them, and had the satisfaction of seeing their eyes widen as his broad, well-muscled frame towered over them. He wasn't particularly careful about his strength when shaking their hands, either, though he didn't turn the greeting ritual into a contest. The blond one – Joe, Goldstein had guessed correctly – massaged his hand jokingly. "The FBI sure keeps you guys in good shape."

"Sorry," Goldstein replied mendaciously. He was amused to note that both brothers looked at him sharply. Had they really expected him to be welcoming? If so, they were in for a shock.

"Why did you want to talk to me?" he asked without preamble. Joe Hardy blinked; his brother's eyes just narrowed thoughtfully.

"Nancy told us a lot about you," Joe Hardy responded. The tone of his voice was friendly and easy-going, but he hesitated before answering for just a microsecond too long. It was Goldstein's turn to narrow his eyes.

"That's funny," he replied. "She barely mentioned you."

The dark haired Hardy finally spoke up. "Polite, aren't you?," he said, his eyes never leaving Goldstein's face.

Goldstein shrugged. "I don't see a reason to dance around each other," he replied. "Drew was my partner for nearly a year, and we were close. During that time, she hardly mentioned you two. Then the next thing I know, she's dead – killed in a car accident that occurred while she was visiting you. The situation's supposed to be straightforward, but a week after she's killed you want to talk to me, urgently enough that you want to meet the next day – but you refuse to tell me why over the phone. Even a rookie would be suspicious. So, gentlemen, would you please tell me what the hell you did wrong?"

Joe Hardy kept his face calm, but his brother flushed. "And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Frank demanded hotly.

Goldstein matched the other man glare for glare. "It means that under normal circumstances, Drew was too good a driver to go into a river. Something must have upset her badly, and I'm betting you two know what."

The brothers both looked shaken at his words, and Goldstein knew he was on to something. "Is that why you're here?" he pressed. "To try and appease guilty consciences by buddying up to Drew's friend?"

Frank Hardy leaned forward, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Look, friend," he said, biting off each word, "we might have drifted apart from Nancy for a while, but we've known her since we were teenagers. You've known her for what, a year?" He shook off his brother's restraining hand on his arm irritably, his eyes never leaving Goldstein's.

"I may have only known her for a year, but I knew her well enough to know that whatever history you guys shared, you hadn't been there for her in a long time!" Goldstein snapped back.

"We all know that Nancy is – was – special," interjected Joe, and the atmosphere eased a little as the other two men looked at him. Joe continued easily, as if he hadn't noticed any hostility in the first place. "You're right – we hadn't talked to Nancy much during the last few years, but she reconnected with us a few weeks before the accident. We invited her up to visit us whenever she got the chance, and given the whole probation mess, she decided to take us up on our offer the same day as the accident."

Goldstein blinked. "The what? What probation mess?"

The Hardys hesitated and shared a long look. At last, Joe answered. "Nancy was put on probation last Friday," he said simply.

"That's impossible," Goldstein said firmly. "Drew was a great agent. Why would she have been put on probation? And why wouldn't I have been notified?"

Joe Hardy shrugged. "Nancy said she wasn't supposed to tell people why, but she was pretty worked up about it."

Goldstein stared at the blond man incredulously. It didn't make any sense. Drew couldn't have been put on probation without his knowledge – could she? And why would she be put on probation in the first place? He had been working closely with her on some fairly mundane research; when would she have had an opportunity to put so much as a toe out of line? Something wasn't adding up.

"What is it you're not telling me?" he demanded. He was angry and unaccountably worried; his instincts were telling him that he was about to hear something he didn't want to hear. He could feel Frank's dark eyes burning into him, but he kept his own eyes fixed on Joe Hardy. He had a feeling he knew which brother was more likely to be forthcoming.

Joe took a deep breath. "We don't think Nancy's death was an accident."

Goldstein stared at him, shocked. "Why?" he asked at last. "What's your evidence?"

Joe glanced at Frank, who nodded back reluctantly. "Nancy was upset when she left our apartment," he began, "but she was no idiot. If she thought she was too upset to drive, she would have pulled over. In addition, if you could see the spot where she went into the river – it's not an easy thing to do. Either she had terrible luck, or somebody pushed the car there on purpose. Add all that to the fact that they still haven't found her body ..." he trailed off with a grimace.

Goldstein suddenly felt very tired. "That's a pretty circumstantial case, gentlemen," he said. "Do you have any proof?"

Again, there was an infinitesimal pause before Joe Hardy shook his head. "We don't even have a motive. That's part of why we wanted to talk to you."

Goldstein studied the brothers carefully. He wasn't sure what, or why, but they were holding something back, maybe even lying. Could they themselves be responsible for Drew's murder? If so, why would they come to him? No matter what, one thing was certain. If Drew's accident was no accident, he owed it to Drew to get the guys responsible for her death – even if they turned out to be two of her oldest friends.

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_Feed the muse? She subsists solely on a diet of reviews ..._


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